EVA Sessions: Ten Year Piece
by Gob Hobblin
Summary: Run through your patterns. Return to your homes. Embrace the life that you had known before. Pick up the pieces, and rebuild. Forget the lessons learned, and ignore the race that was run. What answers do you expect to find, Red Devil? What life do you expect to live? What are you willing to surrender? Adam...is...here... The sequel to EVA Sessions: Ten Year Whole.
1. Impact Day: Human Sinister

The long, flat of Manchuria had been a place for empire building and empire breaking in days long past. The native steppe peoples rode into mainland China and history, where they created a great empire that eventually transformed them as much as it transformed the Han. The Japanese had taken it for its mineral and industrial wealth and renamed it Manchukuo, their greatest conquest before their own empire was disassembled by American, British, and Russian forces. Even after the Second Impact, Russia and China clashed along the great borders. Russia desired what all other empires desired, wealth and industry. China wanted land for their massive population to expand. Manchuria was indifferent to all this, of course. It was only land, after all.

The steppes here, continuing on into fabled Mongolia, had once known snow, though the Second Impact had changed that, as it had changed many things. It could still be fever cold here, but frost and snow were transitory guests, if they came at all. Despite that, a decade after Third Impact, and small bits of frozen moisture seemed to gather and collect in this forbidden place, hinting at snows that would come again. It was a return to old things. The earth healed itself, as did humanity. All in it's own time.

Calm itself was transitory, however, and the calm broke loose as rotor blades beat down over the grass, and three vultures thundered through their air. They were low, beating the sound of their passage into the ground as they flew. There was no one to mark their passage, of course, but one must be careful. These were Russian helicopters, still functioning ten years after their owners had vanished into the Black Moon. They had new owners, with new mission, and new purpose. And they worked, that was important. Russian equipment was like that, designed and built to be abused beyond the breaking point and then some. It wasn't necessarily a demonstration of any great part of Russian engineering, though it did showcase the ingenuity and tenacity of it's designers. What it's better to say is, that wasn't the point. Russian equipment had to be expected to work for years, without reliable support logistics and in the hands of conscript troops. It was designed that way because they had no other choice. In the end, it was a testament to their ability that Russian equipment was often the first equipment seen in use again. If they only had the population, Russia could have conquered the empty world. Like everyone else, though, their population was a hit-or-miss thing, these days.

The lead helicopter of the three was Mil Mi-24 Hind, looking all for the world like a giant wasp. It's bulbous cockpit was occupied by two pilots, and it's spacious interior by eight well-armed men and one more. Flying escort were two Ka-50s, the single seat, double-rotor attack helicopter that the Russians began to produce in quantity to assist with the border clashes in China following Second Impact. They were called Tchornaya Akula…the Black Shark. They did indeed look predatory, with their angular cockpits and knife-like edges. It had been saved from obscurity by those border clashes, where the Russians needed more aircraft than the Mil Mi-28 could provide. The Ka-50, with it's single-seat design and already respectable reputation as a special operations support platform, helped fill the gaps. Thus, there were many out here, waiting for enterprising individuals.

"We are fifteen minutes out," a call came over the headsets, and the one who stood apart shifted. At his motion, the eight armed men checked their rifles and and equipment. Last minute checks, all around. The fifteen minutes came, and the fifteen minutes passed. The chopper began descent, touched down, and the side doors slid open. Eight men tumbled out, and the one who stood apart slowly stood and exited the helicopter. It was doubtful that anyone was here to secure this place from, but doubt was the slow death. Slow deaths could become quick.

They were still in the grasslands, but facing a utility shed. It was utility shed in the middle of nowhere, and that in itself was suspicious. The Chinese counted on it's obscurity to be its primary defense. There were some things that simply couldn't be hidden from those who know where, and how, to look. The one who stood apart knew. He knew many things.

The men advanced on the shed, the two Ka-50s circling overhead. The door was already open, and peering in, they saw a great plate set in the earth, a portal like that on a sub. A great, sealed hatch in the middle of nowhere.

"It's here," the lead man said, and the one who stood apart nodded.

"Open it," he called over the beating rotors. The men began placing high-temperature charges around the cardinal points of the hatch. When ignited, they would burn and convert into plasma slag, consuming their own mass with their intense heat and vanishing into thin air. Before that happened, though, they would melt through the restraints of the hatch, and open it for the plunderers. They lit the charges, and the smell of ozone and molten steel filled the air. The ozone made the eyes water especially, as the very oxygen around the charges was boiled away. After fifteen seconds, and dangerously close to the twenty-second lifespans of the charges, the fuses dropped through. Using crowbars, they lifted the smoldering hatch free. Flashlights came on, and they looked down into the shaft.

"Smells musty," one noted, "But that seems to be all."

"Geiger counter," the one who stood apart ordered. They lowered one down, the random clicks never rising and increasing. "Masks," the one who stood apart ordered, and for safety's sake, they all donned gas masks. They then descended into darkness. The tunnels below demonstrated the full budget and wealth the People's Liberation Army had lavished on this place, at least as far as China could afford following the loss of their coastal population and economy in tertiary tsunamis. That had all come back, but the wealth was still husbanded carefully. Earmarked for projects like the one this place was devoted to.

They marched through the hallways, leading the one who stood apart but deferring to his directions. He seemed to know where they should go, so they listened carefully to where he ordered them to move. As they walked, they passed empty uniforms, surrounded by residue of organic material long since rotted away. It would make a man nervous, but these men knew no such feelings. They were hard men, one and all, and that's why the one who stood apart had chosen them for this.

"Offices," the point man said, spying the double-doors the one who stood apart said would be there. They kicked them in, and entered a cubicle farm. An overhead light flicked sadly, and kicked itself on, some motion detector somewhere still working despite the ravages of time.

"That one," the one who stood apart said, pointing to a side door. They came up to it, finding it to be heavy and double-sealed. "Charges," the one who stood apart said, and they laced the door, stood back, and blew it. They walked in, to find rows and rows of sealed file cabinets. The one who stood apart pushed through, going to three in particular. Two of them had beyond the average seals, and one, on closer inspection, was not a cabinet at all. It was a locker. He studied them, and nodded.

"Take them," he said. The men pulled the cabinets and locker from the wall, and began to carry them back out. Two hurried ahead, back to the Hind where they retrieved a portable wrench and three-point anchor. They installed it as their fellows brought the lockers back to the hatch and lined them up below. One by one, they were lifted free and returned to the Hind. Once they were secure, the one who stood apart was satisfied, and gave the order to leave. The helicopter lifted off, and joined its fellows in the sky. Still at low altitude, they beat a course back north, vanishing over the horizon.

Once again, the steppes knew peace.


	2. This Day

The Teacher was holding court among those he counted as his generals. And there was mutiny in the air.

"This is your solution to our disasters? To compound it with a march south, with no rear supply…because of…" The man speaking spun his fingers in the air, grasping physically for words. "…because you get slapped around and someone gives you a _name_."

"Misato Katsuragi," the Teacher said diffidently.

"Oh, wee-frigging-do," the man snapped. "That explains it all." The vocal critic was named Tester, and he was one of the more cynical of the Teacher's leadership. He was smaller than most of the other people present, but he was also one of the more intimidating. There was an unspoken agreement among a sizable number of the Teacher's followers…including a few of the generals present. He was clever, ambitious, and dangerous.

The Teacher laughed at him inside.

"Vulgarity is uncalled for," the Teacher chided.

"Strength is," Tester hissed. "And it's been _lacking_."

The handprint in the mask had been stamped out, but the outline of the palm and fingers still remained. The left eye socket had been filled in, confirming the rumors that the Teacher was now blind on his left side. It was a sign of weakness, but one that seemed to only enhance his fearsome appearance. He flaunted the weakness, daring any and all to call him out on it. It was working, it seemed…Tester was looking openly at him, his face barely concealing his disdain. The Tester looked back casually, indifferent to the man's loathing.

"And what do you intend to do now? We've lost the warheads, we've been reduced in strength. We've lost our hold in Ishima, and you say that we need to go down there to hunt for a person we know nothing about, simply because you have…a _name_."

"No, Tester," the Teacher said, "I intend to take our forces down to Ishima to butcher any and every single living human being there save for one. I intend to take her alive. I intend to drag her all over the north until I find the woman who did this," he placed a finger against his eye, "And show her what I can do to the things she holds in value."

Tester shook his head, stunned. "It's a vendetta. That's all it is…it's just a stupid vendetta."

"Of course it's a vendetta," he said, surprised that the accusation had been made. If it seemed obvious, than it was obvious. Why ask the question?

"You admit it! You wish to do this for no other reason than _you got hurt_, and you'll drag the rest of us down with you."

"Have you so little faith, Tester? Are you intending to live up to your name and test me now, in this moment?"

"Stop with the platitudes!" he snapped. He stood. "I'm tired of dealing with this, and I'm tired of dealing with you. In the past two weeks, we've nearly been ruined, and all you've done is wax voodoo about it. I'm leaving, and my loyalists, they go with me. To hell with you and the rest of it," he snapped. He turned, and walked towards the door.

With that terrifying, almost casual speed, the Teacher had crossed the room. Tester had the time to turn back towards the fearful noise, in time for the Teacher to plant his massive hands on either side of Tester's head. The clap had stunned the man, and he went limp for just a moment. He began shaking, as pressure and pain increased. He tried to pry the steely hands off, then scrabbled for one of his weapons, but his fingers were shaking too much. He grunted in pain, and a resounding pop filled the room as his mandible broke.

"Are you still capable of making a clear and informed decision?" the Teacher asked gently, his thumbs probing up and along the man's cheeks. They found his eyes, resting gently for a moment. "Are you still willing to do what is necessary to lead? Take your time answering." He began to press.

The screaming began, and the sounds, and the horror. Some of those present looked away, in fear and disgust. Some stared in open fascination. None moved. The screaming stopped.

The Teacher turned back towards the room, dragging Tester's body with him before releasing it with a flourish. The Teacher threw his arms wide, as though ready to take flight and scattering red across the gathered generals.

"Let us thank Tester for clearing the air," the Teacher said, "And allowing such grievances to come to light. Now, let me be clear in my purpose and mission: nothing has changed. Though, I will tell you, that it is personal for me, that is true. I was spited, and I will treat that spite with contempt. I will devour what was good and valuable to Asuka Langley Soryu, and I will _spew_ it out for her to behold. Should any of you think that…an inappropriate marshaling of our resources, then please direct your concerns to Tester." He flicked a finger towards the body. No one moved or said anything. "Now get out."

Meekly, the leadership turned and filed out, leaving the Teacher alone with the corpse. He stared at it with his baleful eye, allowing himself to give in to his hate and fury at last. He removed the mask, letting it drop to the floor. The left eye still saw nothing but fuzzy shapes, the odd flash of light here and there. It wasn't that he was blinded that bothered him, he could care less. It was the ease with which she had put him down. Had humbled and broken him, if just for a moment.

What's more, it was the clear that Asuka had it in with whoever it was running the world these days. He wasn't entirely sure of the why or how, but he felt that she had played a part in the Return, something…significant. Not to the degree of the blue-haired girl, or the boy Shinji…but he hated her for it. He hated her more than he could understand, and it was because she _had_ hurt him. Been present at his greatest setback in life, possibly the cause for it. The seed of his failure.

Asuka had died. He knew that. Died and came back. That was as clear a sign of the futility of his designs as the entity itself telling him to crawl off and leave her be. And it infuriated him. He trued tried to calm himself, tried to reach that state of peace he possessed even when he met with God herself…and it eluded him. It became harder and harder to _be_ as he was. And he hated Asuka for that. He hated her, and decided that she would bear the brunt of his fury. In one form or another.

"I will find this…Misato Katsuragi. I will burn her from the inside out, and when she is a shattered, broken wreck of a person, she will serve as an example. And you would know about examples, wouldn't you?" he whispered to the corpse.

Tester did not reply.

* * *

Ishima was becoming a new fortress city, to the best of the Expedition's ability. A constant stream of supplies were being air-dropped or driven up to the ruins, and the troops dug in. They were going to make this place impregnable, and from here, begin north again. It was noisy work, however.

Misato stared bleary eye to the killing field north that they were prepping. Buildings were being demolished and paved over in rapid manner, thanks to a group of engineers and their equipment brought up for the purpose. As they moved closer and closer to the 'Wall,' combat engineers followed in their wake, layering fences of razor-wire, directional surface mines, miniature dragon's teeth (large enough to foul a vehicle and too small to take cover behind), and larger vehicular mines. It was a great, big field of death, and it didn't end there. Firing fields were being established, and distance markers were being staked among the mess, for sharpshooters, riflemen, and automatic weapons users.

Anyone hitting it would find a messy welcome. Not that Misato was concerned about that right now.

She just wanted some sleep.

"Too…noisy," she sighed, and Kurozawa rolled his eyes. At times, she could sleep through anything, and at other times, she couldn't seem to get a wink because someone, somewhere, was breathing too hard and she could _sense _it. And now, she had nothing to do, no orders to shout, no orders to carry out, and she couldn't sleep. And he was stuck following her around like a monkey until she finally dropped from exhaustion wherever the sleep happened to come. He had _insisted_ she stay in her tent, but she had taken to wandering.

Which is why he was here, now, on the Wall, wondering when she would droop, sputter, and fall asleep. The thankless job of an aide.

"I could ask them to keep it down, ma'am," he suggested.

"Don't be crass," she snapped.

"I wasn't being crass," he said, confused.

"You weren't?" she mumbled. "Hmm…sounded crass to me. What were we talking about again?"

"The suffering you put me through as an aide. When are you going to go to sleep?"

"When it's quieter," she mumbled. "We're only forting up the north?"

"Yes," Kurozawa said. "At least for the time being. I spoke to First Sergeant Kaze, he said that we would use conventional defenses for the east, west, and south for now. If we get flanked, we can always mobilize and move in one of those directions, if necessary. At least, that's the theory."

"We do have plans to fort up those points though, right?"

"When we can," he said.

"Good," she mumbled, wobbling a bit. She studied the activity out there, thinking of what lay north. They had the coordinates of the missile launch more or less calculated, based on observational triangulation of the smoke trail and interrogations of the prisoners. They knew where to move…but they were still outnumbered, and needed a good place to support any advance.

Which meant hunkering down here. And with the resources of the Restored Government backing them, they could make this a real place of strength. A much more built-up base than the Teacher was capable of doing with his own resources.

Still, it was a lot of waiting around, and it drove Misato on edge. "How long do you think they'll just wait up there?" she asked.

"Who knows? Personally, I hope they come." She quirked an eyebrow, and Kurozawa shrugged. "We might be smaller in size, but if we hunker in well enough, we can be the anvil the hammer breaks on. Greater forces, with a longer supply thread, possible dissension in the ranks if they had a big enough problem up there. Factor in the potential for disease, the access to water…" He shrugged. "We could be in a stronger defensive position than they have an offensive position. The offense isn't the only thing to win wars, you know."

"And I am good at the defense," she said, smiling. "You should have seen us with Nerv. Lots of defensive actions, then."

"And look how that turned out, ma'am," he said, and she made a face. "Besides, the more pertinent question is how is Gen. Tatsumoto with defending?"

"It'll be a test if it comes to it, that's for sure…"

"If they come, they come. And we'll deal with them, then," he said. He got no answer. Kurozawa turned, and grimaced. Misato had fallen asleep standing up. "Well," he sighed, "It's the small mercies that count, right?" The Colonel didn't answer.

* * *

"It's today," Shinji said, as Grigory entered the small cell the man had called his home for the past year. The head priest paused and made a face.

"Your wall is ruined," he murmured in Russian. Branching across the wall was a design of what seemed to be two trees of many branches sharing the same trunk, proceeding from right to left.

"No, it's not. It helps me focus," Shinji said. "That was on purpose."

"Then it was purposely ruined. Just because we let you lodge with us doesn't mean the Brethren will allow you to damage our rooms," he said.

"No, but you will," Shinji chided. Grigory sighed.

"You're pushy," he mumbled. Shinji waggled a finger at him, and stood up from his cot. He was bare-chested, and he went looking for a fresh shirt in his pack. He had no chest of drawers, no closet, and thus continued to live out of a backpack.

"You can say that all you want, but today is still today."

"You mean she's arriving today?" the older man asked.

"Yes."

"And why is that? I thought you said you couldn't see her," he asked, confused.

"Exactly. That's why I know it's today. There's a lot of blank spaces from here on out. That mean she's coming, and soon."

"You're excited," he asked. Shinji paused, the shirt in his hand.

"Terrified."

"Why are you so scared of her?" the man asked.

"If only you knew," Shinji mumbled. "But it's not just her I'm afraid of. There's…it's complicated."

"I may be an old priest, but I am a man, who has lived the life of a man. You think I won't understand?"

"Did I ever tell you the story about how God brought the world back because she liked me for being nice to her? When she was a fourteen year old clone of my mother?"

Grigory rocked on his heels, puffing his cheeks thoughtfully. "Well, I can always make an _effort_ to understand. This can't be anymore complicated than _that_, right?"

"I've spoken to Asuka."

"When?"

"Three times, now. In dreams. I can't see her, but I can speak to her. I can be…aware that she is here, and in this world. Just not where she's going."

"And that scares you?"

"No!" Shinji said, smiling. "It elates me. There's still…surprises there. But…it scares me what it can mean. And what I have to say to her." He shook his head. "There are things…I don't want her to know. And when she gets here, she'll know them. Because I will have to tell her." He waved his hand. "There's more to it than that, anyway. She's got Rei with her."

"Rei? The little clone of your mother?"

"Well…not _exactly_ that one, I think, she's…Asuka described her as emotional. Feeling emotions. That's different, that's not Lilith…"

"You mean God."

"I mean…Lilith, who…yes, Grigory, I mean God."

"See?" The priest smiled. "I'm following this a lot better than you thought I was. Anyways, why are you afraid of the little clone?"

"Please don't call her that. At least…not when she's here." The priest raised his hands defensively, and Shinji continued. "I don't see her, either. At all. And I don't know her angle in all this. I…don't know why she exists, why she's here. I don't know if she has any of Lilith's memories, or even any of Lilith. I don't…know this element. So I'm…mildly concerned."

"All that, and just 'mildly.' I'm impressed," the priest conceded. "Impressed enough to let vandalism of your quarters slide." Shinji made a face, and slipped the shirt on. He scratched at his sore cheeks. He had made a valiant effort to shave this morning, to be a little closer to what Asuka remembered. Maybe it was to ease the shock, or remind her that he was still Shinji. His cheeks, his lips, his chin were all stinging from the effort, and he had a nice big nick on his jawline to remind him to be more careful attempting it in the future.

"Do you know when they get here, or is it just…'today?'"

"A specific time?" Grigory nodded. Shinji shook his head. "No. No, just today." He stood, and in that moment, Grigory thought he very much looked like a little boy. There was tension there, an unwillingness to follow through, but the resolve to do so anyway. "Uh…you don't mind walking with me, do you? Down to the docks."

Grigory nodded. "I was just trying to find time for a constitutional." He allowed Shinji to lead the way, and the two of them walked down the hall together, to meet with the girls from across the sea.


	3. Reacquaint

The docks were like the chapel of the Brethren…not inside Nakhodka itself, but close enough to say that they were part of the township. The path that led there was dirt-packed and well-trod, as much of the Brethren's supplies came from waterborne craft. It was just easier than carrying it overland, even with horses or gas-powered vehicles. And while the chapel complex was self-sufficient, there were some things they just _needed_ that couldn't be replicated there.

At the head of the dock was a tree, a small and said thing with just enough height to provide a man shade if he drooped a bit. It was a good tree to sit under, and Shinji had spent many a day using it as a place to think and ponder…and to gaze back towards Japan, waiting for his path to catch up to him. Wondering if his past there would do the same…and somehow knowing it would, all the same.

"So this is what you plan to do? Sit here all day and just…wait." Grigory shook his head, sighing.

"If you don't like it, you don't have to follow me," Shinji mumbled.

"Of course I do. Who else would there be to tell you how foolish you're acting? Stop meeting her until you meet her." Shinji scrunched his nose in confusion at that, and then understood. Don't pick the scab until you actually have a cut. And don't play out the future until it's here. Foresight had made him lazy, and Shinji was paying the price for that…uncertainty and nerves. Small price to pay.

Grigory sidled down against the tree, and drifted into sleep. In time, three Brothers passed by to the dock, nodding greetings as they carried tools. They were there to do maintenance work on the dock, and would probably be there whenever Semyan arrived. He watched as they began their work, feeling himself drawn into a sense of calm at their purpose and focus. The calm broke as something seemed to draw his eye up, to where red ocean met blue sky.

"Hmm," Shinji murmured, Grigory stirring awake, "There they are." On the horizon, barely a speck, was a boat…a boat that had arrived with his _Seeing_ it, blank and denied to him. If he hadn't Seen it, it must be the _Rusalka_, which meant Semyan was on his way back with precious cargo. He wasn't _supposed_ to have that cargo, but Semyan was Semyan. He did as he willed. It was why he had sent him to deliver his message. Out of all the Brethren whom Shinji could call friends, he was the only with with a possible chance of succeeding in turning the girls back. His wily nature was his main advantage in that. Still…Shinji knew that he would be standing on this dock, watching the boat pull in with his past.

Though it took many hours for the _Rusalka_ to make the distance, Shinji stood under the tree, unwilling to move. Grigory watched idly, and the Brothers on the dock continued their work, pausing only to make note of the boat before continuing on with their maintenance. Soon, the boat was close enough to make out the man on the bridge…and a glimmer of red and blue on the forecastle, the unmistakable frames of women.

Asuka. And the girl who claimed to be Rei. He felt a lump in his throat, and fidgeted for a moment. Dive into it. Don't run, just go. You've wanted this, you want it now, and to run is to deny yourself again…and you just can't do that. He didn't have the ability anymore.

The boat drifted up to the dock, the Brothers abandoning their maintenance to help pull the boat in. As it closed with the dock, Asuka hopped down onto the wooden planks, and Shinji got his first real sight of her, beyond dreams.

She was shorter, now…then again, he was actually taller. He had reached Gendo's height not too long ago, and Asuka was at least a head shorter than him. She seemed stockier, too, but not large. It was more…lithe. Her muscles were fluid, and trim. It looked like a fighter's frame, but leaned more towards a dancer's as well. It was, undeniably, Asuka…

Her hair was shorter, too. Starting to gain some length, again, but it was much shorter than he remembered it. And her face seemed…drawn. It was because she was older. She was older than he remembered, of _course_. He was older, too…but it struck you when those you knew aged without your being aware of it. She was no longer a girl, she was a woman. She had grown into a woman in the time he had been gone.

She was, to him, the most desirable woman on the face of the earth.

Next to her, walked an image, a ghost…unreal, in a way. He saw Rei frequently, of course, in his dreams of the old days. The bad times…and some of the good ones, too. This pixie that stepped onto the dock was not from his dreams, however. Semyan had said something, and she turned to laugh. It was a beautiful sound, and it moved him, with a sense of both longing and great unease. He had never heard Rei laugh…not once. Who was this…_girl_ who took the shape of his friend, but was so unlike her? He had desperately wanted to see Rei as she was on that dock, free and happy and unburdened. Now that he did…it made his skin crawl, slightly.

Be careful what you wish for, he told himself, and shifted. It was unfair to have that opinion of the girl without meeting her. Withhold your judgment…float along a bit. Let things play out…the answers will come in time.

In time.

He stepped down to the dock, as _she_ began to walk forward. She was purposely studying the Brothers, who had noticeably halted their work to watch the meeting. They detected the fundamental profoundness of what was happening, and their human interest overwhelmed them too much. They had to watch. To gawk.

She took light steps, closer…closer…she was in front of him, and her eyes were closed. She took a deep breath, and he could see it, see all the turmoil he himself felt, roiling through her. This was the moment…the moment that had been eight years in the making. She turned her head towards him, and opened her eyes, finally. He could see that familiar red and blue, and his mouth went dry. She stared at his feet, and slowly brought her gaze up. He felt a thrill of heat move through him as the eyes rose, until they were on his face. On his own eyes…

Wonder. Hope. Anticipation…all reflected in her eyes. Her perfect eyes.

"Hello, Asuka," he said quietly. Her face trembled, and a shy smile crossed her lips.

Then she punched him.

* * *

It was a clean left hook, one that connected sweet and sure against his jaw. His head whipped to the side, and he spun with the motion, falling to his knees and already tasting blood. His vision went gray for just a moment, and then he felt something heavy land on his back, and hands pulling at his hair.

"_Eight…frigging…years_!" she screamed as he tumbled forward under her weight. The Brothers stared, unsure of what to do. Grigory blinked in surprise, Rei had covered her mouth with her hands, and Semyan was laughing. Of course Semyan was laughing, Semyan _would_ be laughing.

Shinji scrambled forward, squirming under Asuka and trying to face her as _she_ tried to choke him. "Eight years! Eight years of being alone! Of wondering if you were dead or hurt or captured by some lunatic! Did I mention I met a lunatic? And that he _killed_ me while I was coming up here? All to find you, you useless, idiotic, unthinking, selfish _jackass_! Eight years! EIGHT…YEARS!" She had given up trying to choke him, and was now trying to bash his head against the ground. "I go through _Hell_ to get to you after getting a RUMOR you might need help, and I get some Russian ex-con telling me to go home, because you didn't want to see me! What do you think I'm supposed to do with that? Tell me, you blithering idiot! Tell me right now!"

"I…would…if you…would stop _choking_ me!" he gasped, working his hands under her fingers. She had returned to tightening her grip on his windpipe during her rant, and his eyes were watering.

"After everything was _right_, after we had _figured it out_, you had to leave!" she continued. "You had to leave, and we…were…" Her grip relaxed. For a moment, her head drooped, and then she curled her fingers through his shirt front, hauling him roughly up to her face. There was no more anger there. Only hurt, so deep that it could have made Shinji bleed. The years of hurt and loneliness, the stress of the journey…all there. It had all been clamped down, and with his little half-smile and "Hello, Asuka," he had torn the sutures off, and she was going to work through every raw, painful emotion she had denied herself in his absence.

"We _had_ it, you idiot. We had it after everything. After everything was stacked against us, we…had it. And you left. You left, and I don't know why! Was it me? Were you unhappy with me?" She was acting like a blubbering child now, but she didn't care. She didn't care how silly or undignified or even how _needy_ she looked. She had him. Right here. All the questions, all the doubts, all the fears she had locked away were forcing themselves into the light, and she wanted explanation. Vindication. Anything to explain it, anything to tell her what the point was.

She just wanted those eight years back.

Shinji looked into her eyes, swallowing blood from the cut in his cheek. He did _want_ to tell her, but not here. He didn't know how to say that, and all he could do was lay a hand against her cheek. She closed her eyes, shuddering, and then calming. She was exhausted. He himself had the temptation to give in and weep alongside her, but he had been grappling with his demons for a bit longer than Asuka had. What's more, he was the _cause_ of her own misery. Again.

If he had been brought face to face with the thing that had hurt him most, would he behave with more dignity? He already knew the answer: he would have less. Because in spite of the embarrassment, the sheer loss of face and pride, Asuka had faced her pain. Shinji had run. He always ran.

She nuzzled into the hand, and opened her eyes. "I'm just…so _happy_ to see you," she choked, her eyes still drizzling tears but her mouth quirking in a smile. It might seem that Shinji would survive this performance after all. "I'm sorry I almost broke your jaw."

"I'm sorry I left for eight years," he said.

"Apology _not_ accepted, but I won't stay mad," she sniffed. He laughed, as Grigory turned and shooed the three other Brothers away. Asuka released Shinji's shirt front, dragging him into a tight embrace that had the equal threat of choking him. He didn't care. Her smell filled his nostrils, and her warmth filled his arms. He had missed her. He had convinced himself it was better to be apart, but he was wrong. "God, I hate crying," she mumbled. He laughed, despite himself, and she laughed, too.

He had missed her.

Rei watched her two friends laughing in a heap, after that…spectacle. After seeing Asuka practically burn her way up Japan, just to collapse into such antics…it was surreal in the truest sense of the word. She shook her head, and turned to Semyan. "Okay, this is getting weird."

"Adults are weird," he muttered. "I would know. I am-"

"A priest and fisherman, of course," Rei said, rolling her eyes. He snorted derisively at her, but smiled in amusement when she wasn't looking. The both of them were ignored by the two giddy adults at the end of the dock.

* * *

**Notes from GobHobblin**: Really now, what did you _expect_ Asuka to do…


	4. Alone But Not Alone

Shinji sat on his cot, his back against the wall, and his eyes fixed on the cracks. He hated them, now that they were there to remind him of what lay in store. He loathed his need to materialize it, to understand it, because it didn't change anything. And soon, Asuka would ask for explanations. What would he do? What would he say?

The truth, of course. But damned if the truth was unfair.

She was about the grounds, somewhere. Despite the fact this retreat was like a monastery (well…monastery-lite, for these weren't monks…they were priests), the Brethren had been understanding in the need for these travelers to have a place to recuperate. A small set of cells at the end of a hallway had been given to their needs, for privacy and seclusion from the men. Some had voiced xenophobic or misogynistic concerns in regards to these girls entering into the sanctum.

Semyan had spoken to them, and the concerns had vanished. He could still be the _vor_ when he needed to. At this moment, they were probably cleaning up, taking a nap, anyone of a dozen things that one would do when exhausted and finding sanctuary for the first time in a long time. And he sat here…pondering what to do, what to say, postponing the inevitable.

There was a knock at his door, and he kicked off the cot. He crossed the room, opened the door…and beheld Asuka, beaming at him.

She was wearing…a skirt. A sun-dress, in fact, the kind that had been popular among the Russian girls in Nakhodka. It…suited her. "Do you like it?" she said, cocking her head to the side.

"Um…well, yes, but…where did you…?" He cocked his head on his own, surprised. "Did you shave your legs?"

"Thanks for noticing," she said dryly.

"No, seriously, how did you do that? All we have here are straight razors. I got cut badly trying to shave just to be presentable," he said, confused and a little envious. He didn't see _any_ nicks or scratches. How did she _do_ that?

She crossed her arms. "Do you think I can't handle a blade?"

"That's a completely different skill set, and the mechanics of _this_ are beyond me," he said.

"Women are allowed their mysteries," she chided, "And besides, it's nice to _feel_ like a woman again, after all the mud and sweat and grime." She looked to the left, then right. "So, you gonna leave me just standing in the hall?"

"What? _No_, no, please come in!" He stepped back, allowing her entry to the room. She stepped in breezily, and he thought he smelled perfume.

Semyan. Semyan had something to do with this. He was the only one with access to Nakhodka in what could be called a timely fashion, and if anyone _knew_ how to get feminine articles like perfume, dresses…the whole nine yards. And if Asuka had asked him to, it would explain why Shinji had no idea of Semyan's movements. Asuka had muddled that path with her presence.

Damn your black heart, Semyan, Shinji thought, feeling his own racing. "So…how did the Brethren take it when you came traipsing down the halls dressed like that?"

"I think Father Yevgraf…that's his name, right, you have a Yevgraf here?" Shinji nodded. "I think he called me a nasty word, but it was in Russian. _Suka_? I thought he was trying to say my name, but the way he said it…"

"Yeah, that's a rude word," Shinji said.

"What's it mean?" she asked.

"'Bitch.'" She laughed, musical and clear.

"Yeah, I guess that's pretty accurate," she snickered. "Oh, for a man of God to be so crass!"

"Only a few of these men are of the truly 'religious' type," Shinji said. "A lot more are like Semyan…worldly men who decided to seclude themselves. They're good, for the most part, but some are…well. Yevgraf is an example. He doesn't like me very much. Calls me the _Yaponski Sabaki._ It means, literally, 'Japanese Dogs.' I'm a plural, you see…he doesn't see me as one person, but the tip of a whole flood-gate of heathens about to spill over the edge."

"He sounds so charming. You have _nice_ friends," she said.

"So Semyan got this getup for you?"

"_Getup_?" she asked, incredulous.

"I'm sorry, you just look more suited to combat boots and body armor these days. I mean, you look _good_, but…" He stopped, knowing he would just fumble it the more he spoke. To his surprise, she smiled.

"Yeah, I know. I admit, I kind of like the whole 'soldier girl' thing I have going, at times. But…" she smoothed the skirt with her hands. "It's nice to…remind myself of what I used to be. I was vain, then, but sometimes it's fun to be vain." She smiled at him, a brilliant, toothy grin. How did she keep her teeth so white these days? He knew of some folks who scrubbed their teeth with salt to achieve the affect. With Asuka, it was one more mystery among mysteries.

"Well…it suits you. The dress, I mean, not the vanity. Though that kind of suits you, too…" he said, smiling.

"Doesn't it, though?" she said, turning towards his wall. "So…modern art?"

"Something like that," he mumbled, and she turned, her brow furrowed. His tone had gone dark.

"This is something important, right?" she asked. "Something like what you used to write in your notes."

He fidgeted. It was that moment. He closed his eyes, rubbed his face for a moment, and then opened them again, focusing on her.

Her eyes were wide, and innocent looking. But there was no innocence in the way she was walking towards him. That was how cats approached rabbits. "You see, there are things…I have to tell you…because…" he began to stammer, but she had moved within his personal space, and was close. Very close. He didn't retreat, though.

She traced the air in front of his lips with her own. The warmth of her breath tickled the flesh under his nose, sending a shiver through his nerves electric. "Because…" he tried again, but it was a whisper. "Because…" She gently pecked at his lower lip, nuzzled his nose with her own. And Shinji moved on his own, not resisting his impulses. He kissed her, hard, rough, and without abandon. She returned the favor, practically cutting his lip with her teeth. It was the kind of kiss one did when they thought there would never be another opportunity again, an all or nothing action. Take it now, supplies are limited.

It wasn't so much kissing, in fact, as it was devouring. It was as though they wanted to swallow each other, consume and contain all that was their love within, where they would never be lost to them again. He heard cloth tearing, realized she had ripped his shirt and wasn't stopping. He didn't stop her. He followed her lead. Their actions from then on were just as desperate, fumbling and unfamiliar, but with purpose and need. It was as if all their time together and apart, all their knowing and awareness of each other…the entire point of their _being_…had culminated for this one moment, this one point in time. They didn't dare resist, and didn't dare waste it. Time was precious, and this time was theirs.

What followed was slow. It was painful. It was frightening, even. It was pure, though. It was consuming. It was…needed.

* * *

The cot was barely large enough for one person, but they somehow made it work. Asuka traced the lines on Shinji's palm with a finger, using his chest as a pillow. "These have gotten harder," she said, turning over his hand. "They were tough before you left, but they're like leather now."

"Speak for yourself," he chided, and she smiled.

"You know how to flatter a lady," she snarked, pinching the web of his hand. It used to make him jump, but it didn't elicit any reaction anymore. Tough hands, tough skin. How they have changed.

"You still look better than ninety percent of the population, what are you complaining about?" he asked, nuzzling his nose into her hair.

"Ninety percent? So there's ten percent out there who you think are more attractive propositions than me?" she asked, rolling over and propping up on her elbows to look him in the eye.

"No, I just don't want you to get an ego. You know how you can be," he explained.

"So, you're saying that I'm better looking than a hundred percent of the population?"

"Stop fishing for compliments," he jibed, pulling his pillow from behind his head and thumping it in her face. She giggled.

"I am _compelled_ to," she said, sitting up and hugging the pillow to herself. She said in a very serious tone, "I am a Pilot, and I am a fisherman."

"Are you going to start that up now?" he asked dryly. "You and Semyan will get along like a house on fire."

"He's a good sort, you know," she said, suddenly serious. "He deliberately ignored your request."

"I wish he hadn't," Shinji said sadly. Asuka scoffed.

"So you're saying that, after the past evening…"

"No, that's not what I'm saying," he said, cutting her off. "I'm glad you're here. More than glad, actually…I can't think of not having you here at all. I can't…if you were to leave, I'd follow _you_, is what I'm saying. And I was afraid that that would happen."

"Afraid that…? Huh?" Asuka cocked her head to the side. "You're not making sense, and that's saying something for you."

"I don't think I ever made sense to you," he said, confused.

"That's the point. And you're making less sense than usual. Try again."

"Well, I…" He bit his lip, looking very young again. "I…well…I don't know how to…" Asuka placed a finger against his lips.

"Calmly, Shinji," she said.

His turmoil subsided, and Shinji got up from the bed, crossing to the wall of his small room. It was the wall with the cracks cut into it. The two trees sharing one trunk.

"What is time?" he finally asked.

"Pardon?" she asked, turning towards him and letting her feet touch the floor.

"Think about it. What is time? How does it move forwards?"

"In a straight line?" she ventured, trying to follow his train of thought.

"You would think, and you wouldn't be wrong," he said, "But you would only be seeing a part of the whole. Look at this." He went to the far edge of the cracks, finding a single line and dragging his finger along it, towards the trunk and into the next tree.

"Time is a web, you see. Both the past and the future. The past is a web that has happened, and the future, a web yet to be made. The only constant, the only straight line…is the present. The Here and Now." His hand slapped against the wall. "You can only see the straight line of the past, your own past, but think of all the events that correlated and conspired to lead you along that path. Breaking out from it, you have a web of connectivity."

"That makes sense," she said, deciding not to tell him that she was unsure of where he was going with this.

"Conversely, the future is a series of possible events, possible paths that will be decided by our choices, and the choices of others." He turned to her, and placed a finger against his forehead. Something in the gesture seemed religious to Asuka, but she didn't know why. "I can…I have been able to…_see_ my path. I started to see the threads at the Sea, on the day of the Return. I began to see them more and more, and by the time I left, the threads were like a puppet's strings. I was being pulled along. In time…as I can now…the threads were no longer simple compulsions. I saw the…events. The faces. I saw how the threads worked…I saw how to maneuver between them. By that point, however…" he shrugged, helpless. "By that point, I had left you and events were set in motion that I could no longer control."

Asuka blinked, trying to take that in. She decided to file away her questions, and go with a simple one. "So…so you can _see_ the future?" she asked.

"No, more like…the _threads_ of the future. The events as they connect together. Possible futures. Possible outcomes. I can see the most likely outcome, and the results of that outcome. Think of it like rigging a game."

"And…how often are they right? These outcomes?"

"Always," he said. "They're always right. Except with you. I've never been able to see what happens with you…you're still a big mystery to me. A big, blank spot in my visions, who keeps on surprising." He smiled. She smiled back.

"Well…I have been dead a time or two," she said in a self-effacing manner. "Think that might have something to do with it?"

"You joke, but it might. Among other things."

"What about…the dreams? You _talked_ to me in those dreams," Asuka said. "How can you not see me, but…"

"I'm not pretending to know how these things work," Shinji said quickly. "I know I can always find you, and you can always find me, but I can't explain _how_ I know. It's like I know how to breathe, or to raise my arm. It just is. As for the dreams…" he shrugged. "Sometimes, I can find you. Sometimes…but not often. Knowing you're in the world, and knowing _where_ you are in the world or what you're _doing_…they're separate things."

Asuka nodded, understanding it, somewhat. It was like her arm…she knew what she could _do_ with it, but not why or how she did it. She dropped any further concerns with that for the moment, thinking back to Misato and their friends. "So…does that mean you _saw_…Misato coming back?"

"I saw a path where she came back, and now that she is, I see her and a general named Tatsumoto moving into the north."

"Tatsumoto's a general now? Good for her," Asuka said. It took Shinji a moment to realize she wasn't being sarcastic, and that Asuka must have met with Tatsumoto, as he had.

"So you've…met with the Colonel?" he asked. He had phrased the earlier sentence on the assumption that she had not.

"General, now, darling," she reminded him. "If you're right. And yes. She had a _lot_ to say about you."

"I imagine," he mumbled.

"And she said you had a _lot_ to say about me. All good things, of course. Can't imagine why," she said innocently. He smiled, but the smile was fleeting. There was more he had to say.

"Asuka…" he began, but trailed off.

"Are these threads why you didn't come back?" she asked. He held a hand up, a gesture of mild surrender.

"Asuka…all of my paths…lead me to…the same place. Over and over. I've tried to find a new path, but it's…it's a fixed point. Me leaving was a fixed point in the past, and I've…had a few more since then. I know when it's going to happen, and I know, I know, I _know…_that it is fact in waiting, not just self-fulfilling prophecy."

"Shinji," she said, "I'm going to buy this, for a moment. That what you're saying is true, because I have no reason to doubt you. After what I've…seen, and experienced. I mean…we _did_ have some conversations while sleeping and separated by miles and miles." Something about the way she said it made him laugh, but like the smile it was short and fleeting. Asuka cocked her head, her expression inviting him to be at ease. "So," she continued, "You know you can tell me what you're trying to tell me, and I won't mock it. What is this…event?" He squirmed for a moment, just a moment, and Asuka saw a play of emotion over his face. Longing. Sorrow.

Fear. Very much fear.

"I am going to be dead before I turn twenty-five," he said, finally. "I wanted you to go home because I didn't want you to see me die." He turned to her, and smiled weakly. "Come all that way, to come get me…and I wouldn't even be here to fetch. Kind of a wasted trip, isn't it?"

* * *

Asuka blinked, surprised by the frankness of what Shinji had said. He was…she shook her head, confused. "But…hell, I've died _twice_," she said.

"I know, you've mentioned that several times."

"Well," she said, indignantly, "I think that _bears_ mentioning, don't you?"

"It's not like that," he said, making a chopping gesture. "I mean, I can't _See_ beyond the point. It's not an issue of whether I come back or not, I don't think I _can_. It's up to Lilith to do these things, and either she would be unable to…or unwilling to."

"That doesn't make sense," Asuka said, still thoughtful. It was hard for her to reach Shinji's panic over this, in light of her own outlook on the topic. Granted, she was scared of death, and dying, and didn't want to do it…again…but Shinji just seemed more…fundamental, to the world, than her. After all, if Lilith/Rei had an affinity for bringing Asuka back…what would that mean for Shinji. "I mean, why wouldn't she? What possible reason could she have for letting you die?"

"I'd ask her if I could, but I don't know how," he said.

Asuka sighed, muffling her hair. "Well, you say that you…See…paths leading up to things. Why not just make careful choices _not_ to follow the paths? Or…just chuck it all in and go someplace else entirely? Muff the future?"

"Because the paths leading up to the event are closed to me. There's…" he bobbed his hand in the air. "There's large portions that are shadowy, and I suspect it's because someone like _me_ is involved and making their own decisions based on what they can and can't See…the only certainty is when I die."

"Not where, or how?"

"No. Just the fact of it, not the details."

Asuka chewed her lip, and blinked, perking up. "You can ask Lilith, you know."

"How? You have a hotline I don't?" he asked.

"Rei does," Asuka said. It took Shinji a moment for him to understand what Asuka was saying.

"You mean…the girl? The girl who came with you?"

"Rei, Shinji, her name is Rei," Asuka said. Shinji squinted slightly, and turned back towards the wall. Asuka felt something like insult and irritation rising in her, a response to the gesture. "What? What's that for?"

"I don't know if that _is_ Rei," he said.

"_She_ is…in a fashion," Asuka said. "She's not Lilith, but she's a part of her, or something. It's hard for me to fathom. It seems that Lilith is in the same spot you are." Shinji turned back, interest in his face. Asuka continued: "There's…bubbles, or patches of the world she says she can't see. You're one of them. She sent Rei to be sort of a…probe, I guess. I don't know why she made her so cheerful and bubbly and all, but she did. Maybe it was a whimsy, or an experiment, or something. I don't know…but I'm glad for it. She's been…important to me."

"She has?" Shinji nodded, looking down at the floor. Something in the way struck Asuka, seeming to remind her how much he had _changed_. He stood there in just his skin, but he looked…armored. Clothed when unclothed. It impressed her. "She's important to you…what if that was the point?"

"What do you mean?"

"She just…seemed to connect to you, right? What if she was tailored to connect to you?"

"I don't think so," Asuka said, uneasy. "Lilith expressly said she didn't want me involved…or at least, didn't intend to involve me if I didn't want to go."

"Maybe she knew you'd resent being asked," he said, "Or maybe…maybe you were meant to get _Rei_ ready to go, and follow when the time was right."

"Maybe…Rei wasn't perfect. There were…elements to her that made her dangerous. It wasn't her fault, but…they were there. Though…now that you mention it…it seems odd that someone like Lilith would make a mistake…"

"I shouldn't have said anything like that," Shinji said, "I was only thinking out loud. If things are becoming muddled for Lilith, and if she was splitting off a portion of her to make a human being, it's not inconceivable that she can make mistakes."

"Fair enough," Asuka said, deciding not to jump at shadows. She still put that warning away in her mind. She realized Shinji was staring at her. "What?"

"You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would."

"I don't think there's anything to worry about, yet," she said, shrugging. "Not until we speak to Lilith, and figure this out. I mean…you're Shinji Ikari. You can't die."

"You're Asuka Langley Soryu," he said, "You can't die."

"And I can't."

"All right, bad example," he said, and she could see that he was more agitated than he was letting on. He truly was, in his core, terrified of what there was ahead of him. Was he so afraid of death? This was a change. He had been borderline suicidal when a boy, and though he was much more even keeled after the Impact, he was hardly squeamish on the topic. What was this fear? Where did it come from? Why did he feel the need to try and _hide_ it so much?

It reminded her of the bad old days, when Shinji saw nothing beyond himself. The deeper he could cut into his soul, the more pain he could pull out and use to brick himself off from the world. It was his worst feature, it had what had driven her away time and again. It was gone after the Impact, gone with time and effort, but it always seemed…just there. Waiting to return. Granted, Asuka had not seen him in a long time, but that fear had been there when they were living together, and that fear seemed to work in the back of her mind.

His hands worked, and he tried to explain it. "There's more to it, then that. It's not just that I'm _going_ to die…it's that I _have_ to die, I think. I don't know why, I don't know…what's coming. I've gotten so used to seeing what's around the corner that I don't know how to handle this. There's something dangerous out there, Asuka…and I just don't know what it is.

"I mean, I can't _fight_ what I can't _see_. And I can't do more than just accept it, now can I?" It occurred to Asuka that he wasn't trying to run or withdraw. He _wanted_ to face what he saw…or didn't see…but he didn't know how. If there was anything he was running from, it was from her. Because he didn't know where she fit, how she fit, or how to involve her. He didn't know what to do, and he was acting in the way he _thought_ he should.

The thing of it was, she wasn't entirely sure if he was right or wrong. Part of her wanted to scream at him for simply writing her off, not involving her to begin with. And yet…he didn't _know _this was where he would end up, was it? He did say that when he left, he wasn't aware of what he would see. He was learning as he went. She couldn't simply…_hate_ him for trying to do right by her, even if it wasn't what she wanted. He had made mistakes, big mistakes…but they were honestly made. That had to count for something, right?

She stood up, pulling the blanket off of the bed. She crossed gently over to him, laid her head against his chest, and wrapped the blanket around the both of them.

"We'll figure it out, okay?" she said, confidence in her voice. "I came a long way to find you, so don't think I'm gonna let a little thing like doom, death, or anything else take you away from me. You're mine, remember?" She held him tight, feeling his trembling beneath it all. It was then it occurred to her that it might not be death that he was afraid of…that perhaps there was something else underneath it all that drove his fear.

That made her truly uneasy…but she said nothing. Instead, they clung to each other, postponing their fears to a later time. For now, they had each other, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

**Notes from GobHobblin**: I had some hesitations about posting this chapter, partly because I wasn't sure I was writing this to a good standard versus the earlier chapters in TYW and TYP. To be frank, though, I think that this was a believable turn of events considering a whole lot of unresolved tension and borderline obsession between these two characters. With Asuka's behavior...well, you can't blame her for wanting to mess with Shinji a bit more. She had a lot of time to decide what she would do and how she would do it as they crossed from Japan to Russia.


	5. Russian Dreams

The sea lapped against the coast, leaving the sand a filthy red smear on the earth. It was as though the planet was bleeding, hemorrhaging like a consumptive invalid. Death was always the prognosis, wasn't it?

But death did not come. In fact, against all odds, life was here again. After being sucked off of the globe, it had returned, inexplicable, mysterious and matter-of-fact. This was the way of it. Don't question it. There's no real answers.

There's always answers, _he_ thought, running his fingers through the bloody granules. The ocean stank of it, that copper scent just hunkered behind the stronger blast of salt. It got to where you didn't even notice it after awhile, but _he_ noticed it. He tasted it, savored it. It lingered in that place behind the eyes, roiled about his sinuses like smoke from a good cigarette, or the last trace elements of a woman's perfume as she disappeared down the street. Ah…yes. He didn't smile, but he did feel pleasure.

He didn't smile, though. He never smiled, anymore.

"Bring the containers," he said, waving a hand in the air. He heard boots crunching through the gravel and grit, pushing through the sand. Four men passed him as they waded knee-high into the surf. Each was armed, and each carried what looked like a small jar. They were unsealed, and they waited.

"Will this work?" someone behind _him_ asked. The One Who Stood Apart turned, and eyed the one who questioned. Fish-eyes looked back, flat and dead. That was a man who was used to his own power, and liked to remind others he still had power. He was one of the first to return from the Sea, the One Who Stood Apart knew. A man with that much ego would never remain in the collective for long.

"Of course it will, if you want pure LCL to tamper with," _he_ said.

"We could just syphon it," Fish-Eyes murmured. _He_ shook his head.

"Too many impurities would remain for too little a return. Be patient, Gulikov, and stop biting at my heels. Do you want what I can give the cause or not?" Gulikov shifted, but said nothing.

_He _turned back to the Sea, and stared at the waves as they washed in. The residue of earthly life was smeared throughout those waters, everything from humanity to microbes. And…somehow…

The trees grew. The grass was long. Illness flourished, crops grew, and animals lived. How did that happen? How, _he_ had to wonder. So strange, so strange. These were the kinds of things that gods pondered. Perhaps the answers awaited him, perhaps not.

He closed his eyes, and raised his arms. It was more than a dramatic gesture…it seemed to him he could _feel_ things this way. He felt the water…he felt the wind…he felt…

Before each man, four blood-ruby spheres began to form and expand, as pure LCL particles were leeched from the sea water and collected in space above them. Soon, each was the size of a softball, and just as dense. "Now," _he_ said, and the four men held their jars beneath the spheres. They drained into the jars, which were then sealed.

"There," _he_ said, hardly ruffled. "And easy task, and now we have pure samples to work with. Satisifed, Gulikov?" The other man shrugged, not wanting to press the issue. There was no clear line of who was in charge of what yet, and Gulikov had better instincts than to start a pissing match here after that. The One Who Stood Apart sniffed diffidently, and walked back to the convoy of jeeps. He didn't care about power plays, because it would all be irrelevant soon. He knew without a fact that he would come out on top, knew with the certainty of one watch a ball drop to the earth. Gravity wasn't an option…it just was.

Still, there was work to be done. Between what was taken from Manchuria, what he had here…a few more items…

It would come together. It always came together.

* * *

Rei awoke with a start. It felt like someone had been tugging on her hair, but as she sat up, she saw she was alone in the room. The sensation lingered, though. Her scalp felt worn and sore where the locks had been yanked.

She felt cold, but did not know why. No…no, she knew why. She was lonely. She was lonely, only this time she could appreciate it. She was indifferent in the last life, but she was no indifferent, now. She felt…she felt, she cried, she laughed. She felt lonely. And it ached, ached in her so much she wanted to die.

Asuka had been spending a lot of time with Shinji. Neither of them had been little of them for the past three days, in implications scandalous to some of the priests. It was clear they were in his quarters, and when a man and a woman were alone in a room…it was more than a few of them could take.

They were a minority, though. For the most part, it seemed Shinji had found a niche in this place. They just seemed happy he was happy.

Rei wished she could _know_ he was happy: he hadn't even looked at her since the day at the docks. She hadn't spoken to him, and was beginning to feel like a third wheel. It made her heart ache, a little, and she didn't know why. She had memories of affection from Shinji, and it wasn't that she was jealous of Asuka…Asuka was a woman who had made a connection to Shinji, and Rei was still a child. Rei _was_ a child in the truest sense of the word…if there was any lingering trait of Lilith, she was unaware of it, and knew in a way that she was _viewing_ the world as a child. And yet…

She was jealous of Asuka. She missed Shinji's smile. Didn't she give him the world? Asuka? She gave him everything, because she loved him. She admitted that, standing in the dark and too agitated to sleep. She did _love_ Shinji, but she didn't know if it was the way that Asuka did.

What was clear was that she had not seen Shinji, at all, to speak to him about this. And it hurt, very much. She admitted that it hurt, as much as she admitted she loved him. She walked across the cell and looked at the mirror that had been mounted on the wall. Semyan had done it, figuring it was the kind of thing a girl would like. She didn't care one way or the other, but sometimes it was nice to look into. It helped her think.

Rei stared in the mirror now, seeking answers . It was as though she was being drawn in, pulled to someplace outside of the room, away and above this empty world. Her face stared back, drawn and delicate, eyes shadowy in the darkened room. She stared at her face…and it smiled. It surprised her, that it should smile, because she _had_ not. So she smiled, to try and correct the discrepancy. Because that made sense…right?

The image snarled back at her, the expression feral and hateful, an animal trapped in the glass. Gasping, Rei fell backward, landing hard on the stone floor. Hesitantly, she stood up on wobbly legs, and looked back at the mirror. It was just her. It was just her.

Just her.


	6. New Day

**Notes from GobHobblin:** I've started a 'Ten Year' discussion group on for anyone with an account there, who wants to comment, ask questions, make suggestions, or just say hi (hiya, guys). I'm also going to leave more in-depth author's notes there, as well as some world notes and general stipulations on why things happen in the setting, so on, etc.

Attempts to save a link to the site are not successful (leading me to believe that FanFic probably has something in the editor to prevent it...), so if you go to , select the Forum tab, then go to the Fanfiction option underneath the Fandom link, you should find it. Also, it is titled 'Eva Sessions Ten Year Whole Discussion Topic.' I apologize for the inconvenience.

Many thanks!

* * *

Asuka awoke alone, finding herself wrapped in the blankets like a cocoon. Shinji's scent lingered in the pillow, but he was not in the room. His things were still tucked in the corner, so the momentary fear that he had _left_ again came and went. No, he was here, she had caught him. All was right with the world. She sat up, feeling the morning air chill her skin, and smiled to herself. She felt like a thief, treasuring the little pieces of time she had stolen back. They were hers all along, after all. It was only fair.

She slipped out from under the blanket, and dressed herself in her traveling clothes, now clean of grime and dirt. They felt fresh again, even lacking of the sour-sweet smell of old sweat. She ran her fingers through her hair, and smiled to herself. It was a bit longer in the back, down to her neck. Her bangs needed to be trimmed, though, and she kept brushing them from her eyes. Shinji seemed to like the way she looked when her hair was down like that, though. Maybe she would leave it. Who knows? The world was a new and strange place, now. Asuka was thinking of ways to make herself pretty for a man. That version of herself died a long time ago, never to come back again, and yet here she was again, like an old friend. She pressed her palms against her ribs and under her breasts, stretching the skin between her shoulder blades. She felt good. Truly good.

Life was good.

She wanted to find Shinji, and tease him some more. She was still unconcerned about his fears of death, thinking little of them at the moment. They seemed vague phantoms nipping at the heels of happiness, and she refused to give them their moment in the sun. She had Shinji back. To hell with the fears of tomorrow. And then she remembered Rei. She hadn't seen Rei for a few days now, and that wasn't right. It wasn't fair to the girl, and she knew that Shinji was still hesitant about the girl. She had to fix that. She had to get Rei and Shinji a chance to see each other, meet with each other. She popped her shoulders, and opened the door.

Stepping into the hallway, she detected the sound of movement. Father Yevgraf poked his wizened head out of his chambers. "Morning," she said sweetly.

"Yaponskaya shloxa! Vee perensetye bojestvenooye vozmedzdiye chtobee zagryazneet dom Bratyev!" he snarled at her, then popped back into his cell like a rodent retreating down a hole.

"Hmph," she muttered, "Morning to you, too." She turned to walk down the hall…then felt a sudden, almost childish urge come over her. She looked back at the door to Yevgraf's cell, and felt a sneer play across her features. The sneer turned into a devilish grin, and she marched over to door.

Smiling cruelly, she gripped the handle with her right hand, then began to push, twist, and shake the metal. After a few brief minutes, she released the handle, satisfied with her work. She knocked on the door, and waited. Someone tried to open the door from the other side…and failed. The pulling became a bit more hard, then frantic in it's regularity. Yevgraf began shouting loudly in Russian, and Asuka nodded to herself. She began walking back down the hallway when another one of the priests turned a corner.

"Um, I think Father Yevgraf is having some trouble with his door," she said sweetly, pointing towards the shouting. The priest didn't understand her, but he followed the direction of her pointing, and clearly heard the man screaming in incoherent rage behind his door. The flustered newcomer hurried down the hall, and Asuka beat a hasty retreat.

* * *

Asuka entered the main cafeteria of the complex, where she saw Father Grigory sitting at one of the long tables. A plastic cup of juice and a bowl of potato-and-beef hash sat in front of him, and he ate slowly and without hurry. He was the only person in the large room, and Asuka crossed the space to join him.

"Father Grigory," she said, smiling as she stepped closer.

"Good morning, my dear," he said, smiling. "If you're looking for Shinji, he went on an errand with Semyan. He should be back in the afternoon."

"I'm actually on my way to find Rei. I was headed to our rooms, unless you've seen her out and around?" she asked.

"No, no, I haven't.

Asuka nodded, and stood in place. Grigory watched her for a moment, then laid his fork down on the table and leaned back. Aside from his long beard and closely cropped hair, it was hard to tell he was a priest at that moment: he was wearing a t-shirt and work slacks, ready for a day of manual labor in the food gardens. That expression marked him as a holy man, though…it carried the scrutinizing eye of a man who knew when someone had something to ask, but didn't know how to begin.

"What's troubling you?" he asked.

"What do you think of Shinji?" she asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Uh…well…" she sat down at the table, scratching at one thumb with the other. "I haven't seen him in a while, and now that we're back together again, I frankly have stars in my eyes. You know…so…I just wanted to know what you thought of him. I guess, I'm just curious to see what it was that I missed in the last eight years."

"You could ask him," Grigory said coyly, "I'm sure it would give you plenty to talk about, catching up."

"I'd rather hear from someone else, first," she said quietly. "Someone…unbiased, I guess?"

"I'm as biased as they come: I like the boy," Grigory said flatly, but then shrugged. "He's been living under a shadow. I figured it had to do with you…he always watched to the east when he thought I wouldn't notice. I begin to wonder if maybe there's more to that shadow, though."

"More?"

"Well, you're here now…and he still has that…recession that I noticed. That hidden part." In that moment, Asuka felt strangely guilty, and the expression showed on her face. "You know something of it?"

"I think so, but I'm not sure how much I'm at liberty to say," she mumbled.

"Work around it, then," Grigory offered, not wanting to pry, but clearly wanting to be helpful.

"He…told me something. Something he was afraid of…and I didn't take him seriously on it. It's not that I doubt his fear, it's just that…it's hard to explain," Asuka sighed.

"I don't think he held it against you," Grigory said, and Asuka shook her head.

"Maybe he did, I'm not sure…it's…" She smiled, closing her lips.

"It's complicated," Grigory finished.

"It always was. It still is," Asuka sighed. "It would have been nice to have a semi-normal life, but we never had that chance."

"Life is as normal as you make it," Grigory said, "That's all that God gives us."

"When she's feeling generous," Asuka said with a smile.

"She?"

"I happen to know God on a personal level," Asuka said, "And she can be hard to read sometimes." Grigory nodded, and then shrugged.

"I know what you're talking about. You may call her that, but I have another God, and He's not of this world."

"She isn't either…though to be fair, you worship your God. I tolerate the other one."

"Sometimes toleration is all we can muster, never minding adoration." Grigory shrugged. "You should find your friend. I imagine she's been lonely these past few days."

* * *

Asuka stopped outside of Rei's room, knocked on the door, and waited. She heard faint shuffling behind the thick wood, and slowly the door cracked open. A wide red eye peaked out through the gap, looking dazed and disoriented.

"Rei?" Asuka asked, concerned.

"I think I'm going crazy," Rei mumbled.

"What?"Asuka asked, surprised. Rei disappeared from the gap, but the door remained open. Asuka pushed into the room, and stopped halfway through the threshold, feeling her emotions go flat.

The mirror that had been put on Rei's wall was smashed, and drops of blood lay scattered among the glass shards. Rei's hand had a sloppy red piece of cloth wrapped around it, and Asuka understood the wide-eyed expression: Rei was delirious with blood loss. The girl walked across the floor in her bare feet, heedlessly stepping through glass as she wandered to her bed and plopped down on it.

"She kept looking at me," Rei mumbled, "I had to stop her."

"Who kept looking at you?" Asuka asked quietly, using her feet to brush glass away from the bed as she crossed to Rei. She picked up the girl's feet one by one, picking glass out of the small cuts on her soles. Rei didn't seem to hear the question. "Who was looking at you?"

"She kept looking at me," Rei mumbled, hugging her injured hand to herself. Asuka gently pulled it away, and began to unwrap the makeshift bandage. It was one of Rei's t-shirts, and was now crusted and hard with blood. Asuka dropped it on the floor, and carefully examined the wound. The hand was black with blood, but the gash had stopped bleeding, at least. She laid it on Rei's lap, and walked with purpose towards the door. She poked her head in the hall. No one was there.

"Hey!" she screamed. A moment later, a surprised priest's head popped around the corner. "You," she said, pointing at him. "Get Grigory." He seemed confused, and she snarled at him. "_Grigory_!" she screamed, and the man flinched. He nodded, and vanished. Asuka rubbed her face, and walked back into the room. Rei was blinking slowly. There was more than just blood loss, there. The girl looked sleep deprived, as well.

"She's…she's…" Rei was mumbling to herself.

"She's what, what is 'she?'" Asuka asked quietly, brushing at the girl's hair and cheeks in a soothing manner. Rei focused her eyes on Asuka with an intensity that frightened the woman for a moment.

"What is she so _angry_?" Rei whispered. "It's _scary_." Angry? What was this, where was this _coming_ from? Asuka heard footsteps in the hallway, and turned as Grigory entered the room. There was dirt on his knees, but aside from that he was still remarkably clean, having barely started his work.

"Oh, my," he said softly, glancing at the mirror. He gingerly took Rei's hand and examined it. She never noticed him, still focused intently on Asuka. "This is a nasty gash. We'll take her to the clinic, and send for a doctor from the town."

"Is the clinic here?" Asuka asked.

"Yes, we have a room set aside to serve as one. We can clean and bandage the wound there while waiting," Grigory said. Asuka helped Rei to her feet, and walked her towards the door.

"She's…so…angry," Rei mumbled.

* * *

The compound had a few gas-powered vehicles, the largest being a six-wheel truck with a massive flatbed. This was the vehicle Semyan and Shinji took into town to fetch a new boiler tank for the compound's water system. The current one had seen far better years, and needed to be replaced soon if the Brethren wanted to continue drinking water that didn't erode the enamel of their teeth. It wasn't the water that was the concern, of course. They had it bundled with chlorine before even entering the boiler, where excess contagions and germs would be boiled out. The problem was the boiler itself: it was so old that it was starting to small particulates of metals in the water, giving it the coppery taste of blood. That couldn't be boiled out, and the only option they had with their resources was to replace the boiler.

"I was right to do it, and you will not admit it," Semyan was saying testily in Russian. He spoke much less formally in his native language than he did in Japanese. Shinji knew he would say it…he knew everything Semyan was going to say, and everything he would say in response. It was the nature of the world that he lived in now, the way he Saw things.

"I'm not saying yes or no. I am saying I'm happier than I was, but it complicates things terribly. The Road is cluttered," he replied.

"The Road…you could do with some surprises."

"Are you saying you knew I wouldn't See her?"

"No," Semyan replied, "I'm saying that having a human relationship would do you a world of good, instead of seeing us all as events that have happened already."

"That's not entirely accurate," Shinji said defensively, knowing it was more accurate than he was ready to admit. Life had taken a strange tedium, living through conversations and events twice, once in mind and the next in person. Asuka had shaken that up nicely. It was nice to be surprised.

"It's accurate enough," Semyan said. "Besides…"

"I was lonely and you were tired of me moping," Shinji sighed. Semyan looked at him blandly, knowing what was coming next.

"Yes," he said slowly, "And…"

"It's not rude to finish your sentences," Shinji said, replying to what Semyan _would_ have said before he actually said it. "Just expedient."

"Why have a conversation when you already know what's going to be said?" Semyan said irritably.

"Because what other choice do I have?" Shinji sighed, and then realized he was entering one of those fuzzy areas. The conversation with Semyan had led to a place with no paths and crosspaths, which meant that Asuka was ahead, waiting for him. She would literally be the first person he would see when the truck arrived at the compound, and sure enough, there was she, exiting the clump of buildings and hurrying towards the truck as it bounced closer and closer. "Semyan, slow down," Shinji asked, rolling down the window and leaning out. Asuka hustled over to the truck, and Shinji noted the look of concern on her face. "What's the matter?" he asked quickly and without preamble.

"Rei's hurt," Asuka said.

"The girl?" Shinji asked, concerned.

"_Rei_," Asuka said through gritted teeth, in a tone that made Shinji go cold, "Is _hurt_." He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. He had been distant towards whoever this girl was, and whether it was Rei or Lilith or just an automaton wandering around, she clearly had her own thoughts, desires, and wishes. She was as human as the rest of them, and deserved the benefit of the doubt.

And yet…it was Rei. Or might be Rei. Or could be Rei. The Rei he had always wanted. He couldn't help but feel hesitant at the thought, for it all seemed far too convenient. He opened the door, and hopped out. "Let's go see her," he said quietly, and Asuka sighed gratefully. She reached out and took Shinji's hand, and led him to meet the girl called Rei.


	7. Schrodinger

**Notes from GobHobblin: **If you missed the chapter re-update, I can't post a link to the forum in this chapter, so I had to leave some roundabout instructions on how to get there. Many apologies!

* * *

"She punched a mirror?" Shinji asked in confusion as they walked through the compound.

"She said _she_ was looking at her, and she had to stop her," Asuka said in concern, still tugging him along. "She said something about _her_ being angry."

"Her? She? Who…who is she talking about?" Shinji asked. Asuka shrugged, but her expression betrayed…something. He stopped, and she drifted to a halt. "Do you know what she's talking about?"

Asuka opened her mouth, and then shrugged. "Uh…maybe. But it shouldn't matter. It should be solved."

"It should be…solved?" he squinted at her. "You said there were problems to Rei before. What did you mean?"

"It's irrelevant. Lilith fixed it. She said that she did, and I believe her. I think these might just be side effects," Asuka said. Shinji sighed, suddenly uncomfortable.

"It's relevant to _me_. I won't push it, but you need to explain this to me in detail when we have a chance." Asuka's face dropped, and looked ugly for a moment. "I'm not ordering, Asuka, it's just that…it might be important. To a _lot_ of things," Shinji said. Asuka sighed, and nodded. She backed up, pulling Shinji, and he followed without resistance.

They were outside of the clinic when Grigory appeared. "She won't lie down," he said, irritated. "She's too agitated, and I can't get her to stop pacing."

"Could you give us some privacy for a bit, Father?" Shinji asked, and Grigory nodded. Asuka and Shinji entered the room, and closed the door behind them. Rei was inside, dressed but barefoot. She was walking in a small, slow circle, convulsively rubbing her palms together.

"Rei, why are you up? And walking on your _bare feet_, you have cuts in them!" Asuka said in concern. Rei glanced up as they entered, her eyes darting from Asuka to Shinji.

"Uh..um…" she swallowed. "Shinji…uh…hi, I haven't had a chance to talk to you yet!" She smiled nervously. "I just…uh…" Shinji smiled in a pained way, but nodded. "I missed you, I think. I don't know…I'm not sure!" Rei's expression became panicked, and she brushed at her hair in a repetitive motion. "It's so noisy! It's too noisy. Engh…" She gritted her teeth. "I can't hear myself!"

"Rei, you need to calm down," Asuka said, starting towards the girl. Shinji reached out and grabbed her arm. Asuka turned on him, her expression fierce. Her hand reflexively reached up and grabbed Shinji's forearm, and then relaxed. He wasn't looking at her…he was staring at Rei.

"Asuka," he said, "Someone is coming." She looked at him in wonder, and then back at Rei. She seemed to sink in place, and her head drooped forward as her eyes rolled up into her head. A thin stream of drool began to collect in the corner of her mouth. And then, there were _four_ of her. The first stood in the center, still slouched and still vacant. The other three…one was wearing her white plugsuit. The other, her school uniform, and the third, nude. They stood erect and motionless, their faces devoid of any hint of expression. It was Lilith, and she was here.

"I have come," they said as one, with one voice from three places. It wasn't stereo, exactly…the effect was unnerving, and made Shinji's skin crawl. He felt Asuka grip his arm, the fingertips digging into the muscle. She was staring at the first girl.

The other three glanced around the room as one, finally seeing and focusing on Shinji. Their shared expression relaxed into relief, but only for a moment. They began to twist, into something between shock and horror. "What…are…you?" they said.

"What do you mean?" Shinji murmured.

"I…I…" Lilith's face dropped, and she stared down at Shinji's chest, unable to meet his eyes. "I don't recognize you. I don't know who you are. I cannot see you. I cannot see you."

"I'm standing right here," he said quietly, but it occurred to him that she meant seeing in the way he Saw…and couldn't See her. It was confirmed when she shook her head.

"I don't see you," she said, sadly. "I…you are not Shinji. Not now. What happened to you?"

"Lilith, you're not making any sense," Shinji said.

"Please…call me Rei. It was what you called me…Shinji-kun." He felt a shudder at the old name, and shook his head.

"I can't. I can't call you Rei…you're not Rei anymore. You gave that name…to her." He nodded to the girl jerking and drooling near the bed, the child that Asuka was holding upright. The woman stared at him pleadingly, and then back at the three Liliths.

"Lilith, you're hurting her," Asuka said.

"It is not intended," Lilith said, "It is what it is." The tone was sad, as if acknowledging that something had been lost that could not be regained. As one, the three looked down at the floor. "May I still call you Shinji-kun?"

"You may," Shinji said. "You said you can't see me…but you seem to see something. You…saw something, in me. What is it?"

Lilith shook her head. "It is nothing, for it is impossible. I don't recognize you, therefore you don't exist. This was all for nothing. I shouldn't have come." She seemed to be confused, and upset, though it was hard to tell through that flat tone.

"Lilith," Asuka hissed, trying to grab the conversation before the being retreated. "Shinji said he's going to die. Can you do anything about that?"

"What?"

"Come on, you've brought me back twice now," Asuka insisted, "This is Shinji we're talking about. He's much more important to you than I am. He can't possibly be allowed to die, right? Assure him." It was a weak argument, but Asuka made it. She wanted Shinji not to be afraid. To know that they were special. Touched.

Lilith looked at Asuka, though…and the expression made Asuka's heart sink before the words came. "I can't find him," the three said as one, "I can't find him, I can't see him, I can't know him. If the flesh fails, where will he go? I don't know…I won't be able to pull him back if I can't _find_ him."

"What…" Asuka swallowed, knowing what it meant but asking all the same, "What does that mean?"

"It means when I die, I'm gone for good," Shinji said bluntly, "I leave this plane forever…if I don't stop existing outright."

"What do you mean _'when_'!?" Asuka suddenly screamed, the sudden weight of it hitting her now. She was beginning to see why Shinji was panicking, and it made her panic as well. Death, dissolution, a permanent end to things…she was still afraid of death, but she had become blase about it, heedless knowing that she could come back so easily. It had always occurred to her that others might not be able to.

It had _never_ crossed her mind that Shinji was one of those.

"I mean when," he said, his voice suddenly hard. "It will happen and soon. That is as unavoidable as the passage of the sun."

"But…" she forced her grip to relax, realizing she was digging her fingers into the catatonic Rei's shoulders, "But…you…why can't you _see_ him?" Asuka whirled on Lilith. "Why can't you do anything? Aren't you everywhere? Why can't you _fix_ this?"

Lilith began to fade away, and Asuka knew why. She had no answer, and she was running. She did, however, leave one cryptic clue in her wake. "Adam…" she whispered, "It has to do with Adam…"

And then she was gone. With a suddenness that made Shinji jump, the girl named Rei pitched forward with a strangled gasp and began shrieking. "What happened!?" she screamed. "What happened!? I can't _see_! I can't _hear_! What's happening to me!? Asuka! Asuka!" She began to windmill her arms and kick her legs as Asuka grabbed the girl and held her tight.

"Rei, I'm here, I'm here…" she crooned, and Rei screamed louder and the sobs became stronger. Shinji stared at the ordeal, his arms crossed. He said nothing, and he did nothing. He didn't know what to do.

Adam.

Why had she said that name? What did any of this have to do with Adam? He became lost in thought, and only came to when he realized the screaming had stopped. The absence of sound was more alarming than the presence, and turned to gaze at Rei and Asuka. The girl was slumped in the woman's arms, her eyes glassy and unfocused.

"What's happening to me?" she whimpered, "What's happening to me? Why can't I remember?" Asuka gazed at Shinji, a meaningful look on her face. He nodded, sadly. What did they tell her? Nothing. There was nothing to tell, no way to explain it. It was wrong, it was flawed, it was what it was. He turned to leave, to try and process this somehow-

"Shinji, come here." Asuka's voice was soft, but insistent. He stood frozen in place, patient. "Please." He relaxed, and turned back to them. He crossed the space between, and knelt down. Rei was nestled against Asuka's chest, her face streaked with tears and hands drawn up. Asuka looked at Shinji sadly, but gratefully. He tried to smile, but couldn't. He didn't know this child. He didn't know her, or her purpose, or even reason. He couldn't See her, just as he couldn't See Asuka. And yet…this was a child. This was a child in fear, in need, and in peril. What would it mean if he had spent those years growing, learning, only to throw the lessons away now? He would be worse than nothing. Gently, he took one of Rei's hands and held it between his own, caressing it lightly.

"We're here," he said quietly. "Asuka and me are here. We're here with you…that's all that matters."

In time, the trembling stopped.

* * *

"How long have they been at it?"

"Nearly two hours," the sentry said. In the distance, down the road and past the defenses, three large trucks lay parked across the road. A small group of armed individuals paced slowly between the trucks and the observers, but it seemed there was movement behind the trucks. Misato wrinkled her nose in concern, and glanced through the binoculars again. Still no details…

"What is it, a weapon?" Kurozawa asked.

"I don't know," she mumbled. They had the ability to engage the enemy right now, whether by indirect or direct means…hell, they had at least two anti-armor rifles set up and tracking the interlopers _right now_. Their rules of engagement were reactive, however: just because they _saw_ them didn't mean they were in a state of hostility, and besides: they were well outside the 'active threat' perimeter that had been established. These yahoos were only an advanced party that had shown up thirty minutes ago, and Tatsumoto wanted to set the pace of whatever actions were going to come in the future. That meant more scouting, more information relay, and more determination on the location and makeup of the enemy main force _before_ the bullets started flying, if possible.

So they waited, and watched. They did…whatever it was _they_ were doing out there, and they were stuck trying to figure it out. In time, the individuals retreated to the trucks, and engines started. The vehicles departed in a cloud of dust, leaving behind a small, triangular pile. "They left something," one of the snipers said, squinting through his scope. "I can't tell what it is, yet. Too obscured."

"They left something? That doesn't make any sense," Misato mumbled, scratching her scalp. Kurozawa stared through his binoculars, then grunted.

"Mother of…it's heads," he said quietly.

"_What_?"

"It's a pyramid of human heads," Kurozawa grated. Misato looked through her own binoculars, and confirmed it. It did, indeed, appear to be a pile of severed heads.

"Come on, Kurozawa," she said, turning on her heel and heading towards the motor pool.

* * *

Misato took Kurozawa and two more troops out past the line in a jeep, the entire time wary of any possible ambush or assault. They bounced along the road, closing on the gory marker, wondering if, at any moment, a shot would ring out, or an explosion would rip through the vehicle. Nothing happened, and they pulled up to the pile without incident. They exited the vehicle, and warily circled the remains.

There was no real pattern to whose head lay there. Men and women of all ages, children of both sexes…the only thing that was certain was that they were fresh. There were about a hundred or so, carefully stacked so the faces all looked down the road towards the defenses. The symbolism was obvious.

"It's the gauntlet," Misato said. "He's thrown it down." Kurozawa nodded, studying the area around the heads.

"What do we do about it?" he asked.

"Nothing. They may be booby-trapped," Misato said. "Back in the jeep." Backing away from the pile, they re-entered the jeep and headed back to the base.

"Who were they?" Kurozawa asked.

"I don't know," Misato mumbled, "I don't know, and that bothers me. There's plenty of small enclaves and townships up here. Maybe they hit one…or maybe they just siphoned off some slaves or servants to do this. I don't know, I don't care, but that's not the point. It's a challenge. They're aiming to come down here, and probably do the same to us."

"Stack our heads in a nice little pile? Oh. Good. That's wonderful," Kurozawa mumbled as they passed through the security cordon. "I like the north, ma'am. Nowhere I'd rather be."

"Look on the bright side," Misato said, as they rolled through the base towards the HQ tents.

"There's a bright side?" one of their escorts asked in confusion.

"Of course," Misato said. "We know where they are, and we know that they're coming. It'll be easier to find them now, don't you think?" She gave the man a fierce smile that was anything but joyful, and he winced before it.


	8. Sinews

**Notes from Gob Hobblin:** Sorry for the infrequent and short updates: trying to whet the appetite, you know? Work is tough, and every day is sort of one step forward, two steps back (trying to hang in there, not even halfway done…blargh) I miss the writing, though! And I'm behind on all my favorite fanfics, too…got to catch up this weekend.

* * *

Rei had drifted into a fitful sleep by the time Asuka had left her. She crept into the hall, where Shinji stood with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. He waited patiently as she closed the door and gazed up at him. It still seemed odd to her to no longer be eye level with Shinji, and yet somehow fitting…it seemed to highlight how he was no longer quite the same person she had known so long ago.

"I take it this is new?" he asked. She made a face at the choice of words and implied indifference, and he quailed under the expression. "That was colder than I meant for it to sound. What I was trying to ask is if this is a normal problem she has."

Asuka relaxed. "Somewhat. You know as much as I do, now. I'll be frank, it's always something new. First an evil side that comes out when it feels like it, then talking to the real Rei, then…I can't keep track of it. I'm just wondering when it will finally catch up to her."

"When she finally breaks, is what you're saying," he sighed. She nodded helplessly.

"I don't know what to do," Asuka murmured.

"This is a new side of you," Shinji noted, rubbing his forehead. He felt tired, all of a sudden.

"Is it?"

"Just seeing you so motherly. Especially of Rei. Or…well…whoever that girl is."

"She _is_ Rei," Asuka insisted.

"She isn't Rei," Shinji said, "Which doesn't make her any less of an individual human. I was wrong, I'll admit, to write her off so quick…but I'm still suspicious of her reasons."

Asuka's face went blank, and Shinji detected he had crossed a line. He mentally shrugged…some lines were there to be crossed, and not discussing the issue wouldn't make it go away. He turned and began to walk down the hall, Asuka following closely at his elbow.

"What do you mean 'her reasons?'" Asuka said in a frosty tone.

"I'm not saying she has an ulterior plan of her own, I'm just wondering if she has an ulterior purpose. Remember how I told you she seemed tailor-made to hit all the current buttons you have at this point in your life. She was ideal for you to take in and raise without any hesitation."

"You say that like she's trying to dupe me, or that I wouldn't show kindness to anyone in that same situation, or…" She was starting to wind up, now. There were many implications in what Shinji had said, and she was hitting each and every one she had heard.

"If you keep drawing inferences from everything I say, I'm always going to be on the defensive and this conversation won't go anywhere productive. And no, I wasn't implying you wouldn't do the same thing for anyone else." He glanced at her, and she looked away with a sheepish shrug.

"Nor am I saying she is intentionally out to harm you, or me," Shinji continued, "I'm simply saying that she might have a reason for being he she is unaware of."

They left the hallway, stepping out into a warm Russian afternoon. The air was moist, without being stuffy. "Do you think that Lilith intends to harm us?"

"Not exactly…" he mumbled, drifting to a stop while rubbing his chin. He thought back to the confused and surreal conversation with Lilith, as she spoke through the Rei child. "Adam…" he murmured.

Asuka squinted, remembering the conversation. "Adam," she repeated with a grimace. The distasteful conversation came back to her. "What did she mean by 'Adam?' Wasn't Adam…destroyed? Dissolved?"

"I don't know," Shinji admitted. "There's a lot that happened during Instrumentality that just…went by me."

"I wish I could believe that," Asuka said, shaking her head.

"It's true," he said defensively. "I'm only human."

"A human who spoke to me in dreams while claiming to foresee his own death as well as the infinite streams of possible future events," Asuka said breezily. There was a slight bite under the words, however.

"That took time to develop, and it…kind of happened on it's own. I just went with it." Asuka closed her eyes, replaying the words in her mind and feeling that same wash of emotions run back over her. Underneath it all was that nasty little running gag.

_Shinji's gonna die, Shinji's gonna die, Shinji's gonna die and you'll be all alone alone alone alone alone alone…_

She pushed the thought back under the surface. She believed it…for a moment. Only a moment. She still doubted that it was that simple…nothing in the world was simple, and as long as Shinji was breathing, she could still keep him breathing. It was her intent to do just that.

First things first, though. Adam and Rei. Which was the bigger issue, she didn't know. She knew Rei was breaking apart, and that was an issue right in front of her…but this vague mention of Adam from Lilith…

What to do. She opened her eyes, and looked into Shinji's face. He was studying her.

"Trying to read my future?" she asked.

"Sort of," he said. "Just trying to figure you out like always."

"I'm not that difficult," she said.

"Of course you are. So am I. If we were both easy to figure out, do you think we would have obsessed over each other this long?"

She made a face, then smiled sadly. "It's infuriating when you make sense."

He smiled. "Yeah, but you like it." He sighed, glancing back behind him towards Rei's room. "I'm hungry. I can't think when I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat and try to suss this out."

* * *

The Hind cut low across the Siberian flat, banking slightly in a way both exhilarating and unnerving. The men strapped against the bulkheads rested their rifles between their feet languidly, indifferent to the sensation and the sight of the brownish-green land sliding away through the open hatch on the starboard side. The One Who Stood Apart occupied a seat next to the hatch, one that would have been occupied by a commander overseeing a ground operation. Sitting at the other end of the hatch opposite _him_ was the gunner, dope-chorded into the helicopter and leaning against the heavy machine gun.

Two more Hinds would be flanking them. They would be loaded similarly, with more armed men and more precious cargo. One of them would contain Gulikov, doing his normal obtrusive duty in pretending to be in charge and generally making life difficult for _him_. That wasn't what concerned him, though. It was the cargo that mattered.

_He_ stared at the crate strapped heavily into the center of the cabin, sensing the pure quality LCL within. They had collected multiple other samples from up and down the coast, for the widest variety of samples. It wouldn't matter, of course: as _he_ had told his superiors, it was LCL. It would be the same regardless of where it came from.

The properties within were important…more important than _he_ could convey to those who supported him. It was irrelevant, of course: they didn't need to know the implications of it beyond their limited geopolitical concepts. If they knew the true depths of the material he had, the true secrets that could be untapped, they would probably deal with _him_ in the tried and true way that Russian military leaders dealt with such problems…a small pistol and an unmarked grave.

It wouldn't come to that, however. It was doubtful they would have the capacity to carry through even if it did. Things had progressed along for far too long to allow it.

_He_ smiled…but only for a moment.

* * *

It was once a missile base, housing Russian Federation N2 SSQ-39 multi-warheads. They were still there, but in no condition to launch. The warheads might prove useful for something else, someday, but in the end the facilities themselves were far more important.

The visible portion of the base looked very much like any other military base, with hangers, warehouses, offices, barracks, armories, the like. That, however, was only what was seen. A good seventy percent of the actual facility was subterranean and hardened, and all of the key buildings (especially those that housed vehicles) had internal elevators that could drop large cargo and other objects down deep into the earth.

It was awash in activity right now, vehicles and men going about their business. _He_ studied them with detached amusement, and spit out of the helicopter. _He_ traced the pathways of the next three hours from the time the helicopters would touch down, navigating the safest course for himself and his desired outcome. The words that would need to be said, who _he_ would need to speak to and in what order and in what tone of voice. How long it would need to take for _him_ to go from point A to point B, the manner of the movement. Every detail had its own ripples, and the spider web fragmented into dozens upon hundreds upon thousands of pathways. _He_ found the thread that was thickest, strongest, most reliable from them all, and clung to it.

That was _his_ course. _He_ knew how to gain that course as soon as the Hind's wheels squeaked against the concrete of the landing pad, and _his_ boots scraped against the ground as he stepped out. Ground personnel began to unload the crates as the troops on the helicopter took up escort positions. _He_ ignored it, knowing they would be taken to _his_ laboratory. _He_ had a meeting he needed to attend.

It took _him_ thirty minutes to navigate the labyrinth down to the war room, and another three minutes to be processed through. Down to the second, as _he_ expected. _He_ entered, and was met with the usual inquisition of officers sitting around a table in field uniforms, horseshoed towards the door and anyone who would enter. All perfectly planned; and all as _he_ expected.

In the center of the officers was Semyonov, the man in charge of this whole arrangement. He was an older man, but not as old as some of the others present. He held the four stars of a General of the Army on his fatigue's shoulder boards. That was a source of endless amusement to the One Who Stood Apart, for it was doubtful there was enough personnel at this facility to warrant the rank. Who would argue with it, though?

"Well…was your expedition successful, Pisarev?" the general asked.

_He_ nodded. "We have seventy pure samples of LCL for research. Once we determine

"I was always curious, Pisarev," a colonel began, "Why you refuse to choose candidates for your research."

Pisarev smiled indulgently, as one who to an unruly child. The colonel grimaced. "We need to ensure not only the quality of the samples we obtained, but also the nature. If you want a successful union with any candidate, we need to know what we're working with."

"I thought you were an expert on LCL," the colonel said testily. Semyonov began to wave him down, but Pisarev cut in smoothly.

"I am, which is why I have decided to take this course in our research. Do you seek my advice when deciding what to do with your troops? Of course not. Why should I take yours when conducting research in something I know more about than you do?"

As Pisarev knew it would, the words made the colonel surge to his feet. "Likovsky, enough!" Semyonov snapped. "We have no reason to doubt the word and the abilities of Pisarev. We have all seen what he is capable of, and we all know that he will deliver what is promised. Isn't that right, Pisarev?"

"Of course, General," Pisarev said with a smile. Pisarev knew Semyonov had no trust for him; and Pisarev knew Semyonov knew this. The General assumed he had the upper hand, and again, Pisarev knew that. Semyonov did not know, of course, that Pisarev knew the numbers on all the cards in all the decks. He knew the hands before they were drawn, and how the game would be played. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I wish to start my research immediately. Gulnikov, I'm certain, will keep you appraised of any and all developments, and as always I will be prompt on reporting any significant breakthroughs"

Semyonov nodded, waving the young man away. Pisarev backed out of the room, and began his trek towards the laboratory. The pieces were coming together. The were closer than before, and Pisarev continued to gather them into the pattern that led him towards his destiny. When he would stand apart no more.


	9. Hanuman

The gym was empty, save for the young woman and the old man. The old man chewed khat, his rheumy eyes fixed on the young woman. His pupils were like rubies, for he had been blind once, blind before the Third Impact. The girl was kneeling in the center of the mat, her hands pressed together in the namaskara mudra. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing measured. She wasn't meditating, though it would appear that way.

She was listening.

The doors to the gym opened, and three wiry men entered. They had the swagger and build of boxers, for that was what they were. They paused near the door, confused and unsure of their surroundings. They spotted the old man, and wandered over to him. The leader of the trio sidled up to him as one of the others spotted the woman, and wandered to the corner the mat, staring at her with a naked expression of interest on his face.

"Old man," the bravo said, "We hear there's a boxer here no one can beat. Is that true?" The old man looked up at the boy, snuffled, and wiped his face. He spit out the khat into a wastebasket, and turned back to the young man.

"Have you ever heard the story of how Hanuman fell in love with the mermaid Suphanna Matcha?"

The young man smirked, and leaned forward, demanding the older man's attention. "Whatever. Where is that fighter?"

"You stink."

All three turned to look at the girl. Her voice almost quacked in the quick patter of the Thai language, expressing her disgust with the men, but it was also clear, and sweet. It produced an odd harmonic in the men's ears. The nearest one seemed taken aback.

"It began with when Sita, the wife of Rama, had been kidnapped…" the old man continued.

"She doesn't like the way you smell, Sukrit," the leader said.

"I was talking to you, moron," the girl snapped. The leader balked for a second as the old man regaled the story of how Hanuman attempted to build a causeway to Sri Lanka, where Sita had been imprisoned, but the stones continued to vanish as they were cast into the sea. "Quiet, Thuat," she said, and the old man stopped speaking.

"That was kind of rude," the leader said. "We're here to find a boxer, and instead, we find a lunatic and a bitch."

"I'm the boxer," the girl murmured, "And you're irritating." She opened her eyes, which were an almost unnerving white-gray. It was a color most uncommon amongst the Thai, let alone amongst…anyone, really. Settled in her brown face and under her black hair, it made the bravo swallow. He regained his confidence, and stepped forward.

"You're the boxer?" he asked.

"I've already said it. Do you need repetition to understand things because you're dull-witted, or because you like to irritate me?" the girl snapped. The young man glared.

"I'm Jayanta Siriprasadh," he hissed, "A boxer from a great family. I came here to prove myself against some legendary fighter."

"They all do," the girl grumbled. "They all try. They're all fools. You're a bigger fool than most. I can hear it in your voice, see it in your face, and smell it in your stink."

"Yanin has a tongue that will flay you," Thuat murmured. "You need to be wary of her. She is a goddess, you see."

"Shut up," Jayanta growled. "I don't like being mocked, and-"

"Zip up your pants and quit crying," Yanin sighed, rising to a standing position. As she did, it was easier to see the muscles of her legs and shoulders, like cables under silk sheets. "Hurry up and attack me so your friends can drag you to the clinic and leave me in peace. I have more important things to do than slap around an overgrown child."

Jayanta blinked, marched over, and swung a hand at the girl with the intention of slapping her. The hand never connected, and he was unsure why. The girl didn't seem to move, or slip the attack. She just…wasn't there when the blow was cast.

"You're slow," she sighed. "Much slower than others I've fought. You should leave before you get hurt." Jayanta threw a roundhouse kick at her thigh, but again there was nothing there to connect to. It was like trying to punch smoke. It wasn't as though she was doing anything fancy or overly technical. She just…it felt as though she had known where he would strike, and chose not to be there. It was as casual and unhurried as standing up, or leaning over. Opening a door. Signing a letter. Mockery.

"One more try, now," Yanin said, rotating her right arm. "See if you can do it. I warn, you though, once you try, that will be it. I'll do something about it, then." Jayanta raged, and threw a hard right hook. Yanin stepped in, slipping under it and throwing a hook of her own which connected with the pelvis. Jayanta felt the floor seem to drop away as he scooted backwards on the tips of his toes. He managed to get a leg under him and fall to his knee, his hands still up. It was then he smelled urine.

The blow had caused him to void his bladder. He felt his body go cold, and the trembling started immediately. She had hurt him very badly, but his pride would not allow him to step back, even though a small part of him was telling him that he had made a terrible mistake.

"You stink even worse, now," Yanin commented. "You should stop. The next one might kill you." Jayanta stood, wobbling forward, and threw a sloppy punch. Yanin easily avoided it, spinning her back to him and throwing her right arm up and backwards, connecting with the side of his head. He fell forward onto the mat and stopped moving.

Thuat observed this. "Hanuman would cast the stones, and the stones would vanish," he said, pulling fresh khat leaves from a container in his lap. "So, he ordered his men to continue this as he crept beneath the waves to see what was happening. As the stones were cast, mermaids would come and carry them away." The other two men looked at each other uneasily, unsure of what to do. Yanin wiped her nose with the back of her hand and then flicked it in a dismissive gesture to Jayanta.

"Take him out of this place," she said. "I'm tired of the sight of you." Quickly, they picked him up. His eyes were open, for he was still conscious, but he was too stunned to move himself. They hurried away, stinking of piss and fear. Yanin returned to the mat, knelt, and waited. She would clean up later: now was not the time.

"He observed," Thuat murmured, "That there was one who directed the others, and she was fair beyond the measure of all women. Her eyes were like dark pools of night, pulled with stars and moonlight. Her hair was the fine black of river silt, and as flowing as the waters that creep lovingly over. Her skin was like fine china, and white like sand kissing at the edge of the sea. The scales of her tail were silver, and glittered in the dark of the ocean. And in that moment, the general of the Vanaras knew desire."

Yanin waited, wondering what she would see today. Would it be the Japanese man? Would it be the fields of grass in the far north, so far from this place? Or would it be the girl with blue hair, and eyes of flame? What would she see today? Yanin had been without a vision today, which in itself was odd. She decided this meant such a vision would be significant, and she had no time to dance with simpering fools eager to prove their manhood. She waited, listening with half an ear to Thuat.

"He wooed the lovely creature, wooed her from afar until she came to him. He learned of her name, learned she was Suphanna Matcha. He asked her why she directed her maidens to steal the rocks his followers cast, and she told him that her father directed her to do it. Suphanna Matcha was the daughter of the demon Ravana. It was Ravana who had stolen lovely Sita from her husband, and this made the beautiful mermaid an enemy of Rama. Hanuman spoke with the lovely Suphanna Matcha, told her of Sita's abduction and why Ravana was so desperate to stop the causeway. In his earnest appeal, filled with love for the beautiful mermaid, Suphanna Matcha saw the pain Hanuman felt for his ally Rama, and felt horror at the actions of her father, cruel and full of greed. She vowed to return the rocks, and aid Hanuman in completing the causeway, and it was done."

Yanin felt the world drift away, as though all things were made of air and sunlight. She could pass her hand through the floor, walk through the wall. Blow, and her breath would cause the shimmering apparition to vanish. It would all vanish…vanish…

She opened her eyes. It wasn't a vision.

It was a calling.

"Thuat, I must go," she said.

"Go where?" the old man asked.

"To Manchuria," Yanin stated. "I must go to Manchuria, to meet a young man from Japan."

"Is this a vision?"

"I dare not ignore it," she said. "To do so would be…" She shook her head, and stood. Her bare toes gripped the mat like fingers, clenching in tension and fear. Manchuria…it was so far away.

"If you must go, then you must," Thuat said. "But I will miss you."

"Who else would you tell stories of Hanuman to?" Yanin said, with a smile.

"The air, I suppose. There is always something listening," Thuat said thoughtfully. "Or the men who will come to fight you. I imagine that when you leave, they will continue to come."

"They will be disappointed," she sniffed. "If my father was alive, he would have closed the gym in despair at the sight of the multitude of fools that walk through that door."

"Your father was not as good as you," Thuat said. He leaned back. "No one is. You do not fight like a man, or a being of flesh and blood. I sometimes think you are an avatar."

"Blasphemy is never a good way to start a journey," Yanin teased, walking to the closet to get a mop. The smell of urine was too strong now.

"That is true," Thuat thought. "Besides…I would think you would know if you were an avatar or not. Unless you didn't want to tell me. You wouldn't lie to old Thuat, would you?"

"Never. You would never let me live it down," she said. She took the mop and bucket, and walked outside to fill it with water from a spigot against the building. The air smelled of moisture, humidity and trees, diesel and sweat. What would Manchuria smell like? Grass, of course, but what did grass smell of? What awaited her in the north?

And did the young man know she was coming? Yanin watched the bucket fill with water as questions filled her mind.

* * *

**Notes from** **GobHobblin**: The Ten Year stories are very important to me, which is why it took a while to update (sorry...but the story wasn't dead!). I wanted to be sure what I posted was good stuff, not just filler. It's not to say my other stories aren't just as important, but this is what I consider my biggest investment on FanFiction. Hopefully, this will get the gears started. Incidentally, this character was originally a man and very polite and philosophical, but the scene just didn't work. I changed him to an arrogant and impatient young woman, and there you go. For some reason, I just find women more interesting to write than men. Go figure.


	10. When We Were

It was in the early hours when Yanin left the home she had known, the little apartment over the gym. She left a note to Thuat telling him the gym was his now, and to do with it what he willed. She took all the items and clothing she cared to take, stuffed them in her fathers old backpack, and walked away. There was an airfield on the outskirts of town, and she decided to go there. Something inside told her that's where she needed to go, and that's where she went.

She drifted through the dark streets, pulled by the string she could not see or define. It simply was, and that's all there was to it. It pulled her through places in the town she would have avoided otherwise. Drunks who had stayed out for far too long stumbled into the street, still drinking despite the early hour. They eyed her with hungry looks, emboldened by liquor and loneliness and raw, seething lust. Yanin ignored them. They were nothing to her, and she didn't fear them. She knew they would do better to fear her.

Inevitably, a group of four lurching out of building ahead of her caught wind of her, and stumbled towards her. The biggest one moved in front of her, and she stopped, waiting impatiently for this little scene to play out.

"What?" she snapped, irritated.

"Little girl, you shouldn't be out," the stinking man said. "You might run into bad folks."

"I'm a woman," Yanin said impatiently. "I'm twenty-five. Is it too difficult for you to speak to me like I'm an adult?" She was short compared to others, and often mistaken for a teenager. It irritated her when it happened, and it was irritating to her now.

"Look at the mouth on this one!" he said to his friends. "Twenty-five, are you? How about I walk you home, little g-" He was unable to finish his statement, as Yanin had reached both hands for the earth, allowing her to raise her leg up to his head. The movement was as quick as the blink of an eye, and her shin drove into the side of his neck. He drifted through the air almost gently to collide with the nearby wall. He stayed there for a moment, drool and broken teeth flecking his lips, before he slid down the wall, sobbing like a child and touching his mouth with trembling hands. Two of his buddies stumbled over to help him up, and the remaining one stared dumbly. He turned back to Yanin to find her inches from him, her child-like face set and glaring.

"You could try it," she said. "Fight back. Show me who's boss. It won't work. I see what you do before you know you want to do it." She waited, boring into his eyes, the silver of hers burning and wrathful. The man cowed, backing away, submitting. She sniffed, and continued on her way.

* * *

By the time she made it to the airport, the sun was already cutting pink across the eastern sky. It reminded her of savory sweets and iced fruit, and she found her mouth watering. She was rarely hungry in the morning, but today she was and she wasn't sure why. She followed the rusted, chain-link fence that surrounded the field, thinking of breakfast, as she came near the unguarded entrance. It was once a great airport, but not so much, anymore. Almost all of the hangers were occupied by private companies or pilots. The better airfields belonged to the Royal Family, and housed military planes. This one was more haphazard.

_Which hanger_? She passed the fence and studied each hanger. _Which one will take me to where I need to go? Which one will take me far from home?_ The string pulled, and she followed. She wandered into a large one with open doors and a two-engined, propeller-driven plane seated inside. It was a large cargo aircraft, of a kind that had seen a resurgence in this part of the world due to it's simplicity and efficiency. Even the military was using turbo-charged prop planes, at least until jets could be put back up. She stood in the hanger, studying it, until a very pretty woman exited a door on Yanin's left. She was wearing coveralls, and her long hair was loose. She caught sight of Yanin, and paused.

"I'm sorry, hon, are you lost?"

"I was looking for a plane," Yanin said. "Is this one yours?"

"It is, sweetie," the woman said. "Have an eye for planes, do you?" The woman wasn't being rude, but Yanin knew this woman thought she was a child. She crossed her arms and eyed it.

"Not especially. I know they can get me from point a to point b with little hassle in between," she said. "My name is Yanin Timkul."

"Phiyada Kongkran, at your service, sweetie!"

"A pleasure. I'm twenty-five, so…you don't have to baby me."

"I'm sorry. You look so young," the woman said, unembarrassed and still polite. Yanin shrugged, studying the woman and seeing something that others wouldn't see so easily.

She was a kathoey. It wasn't that there was anything in her stance to give her away, or her voice, or her appearance. Phiyada was very pretty, in a way that was painful to Yanin, for it made her wonder if she herself was pretty. Odd thoughts that didn't seem appropriate to her, or especially important, but so important when standing in the presence of Phiyada. Thoughts that made Yanin judge herself in comparison.

Analyzing these thoughts within herself, Yanin returned her attention to Phiyada. The woman standing before her had once been a man but was no longer one. She was of a third-gender, trying to move out of that ambiguous place into one more settled.

Yanin knew this, because she could see that the soul of Phiyada was that of a woman's, while the flesh was that of man's. The flesh was shaped by the soul that inhabited it, and the flesh moved to the tune that the soul sang. Yanin knew this, but Yanin could see things in ways others couldn't. How else could she defeat so many on the mat? Or know where she was pulled? She knew when those who would harm her would move. She knew where she supposed to be when she was supposed to be there. And she knew Phiyada was a kathoey.

It was trivial information to Yanin, but the fact that she knew it somehow made it seem important to her. Why should she know it? Was there something in this that spoke of Phiyada's character, or the nature of things to come?

_Something about surface and depth_, Yanin mused. _We all move to the stirrings in our depth. Monsters in the deep places_.

"I'm envious," the woman continued in her musical voice. "I bet when you're sixty you'll start looking twenty. I'm thirty-five, and I have to fight for my good looks every day."

"You don't look it," Yanin observed, studying the plane. It was a big, two-engined cargo plane, one that looked as though it would have the range to make it where she needed to go. She wasn't sure if it did or not, because she knew nothing about planes.

"So, what can I do for you today, hon?"

"I need to book passage on your plane," Yanin said.

"Where to?"

"Manchuria."

Phiyada scoffed, but it wasn't a rude sound, merely a surprised one. "Only that?" Phiyada asked.

"Would that be a problem?"

"It might be." The woman disappeared back into the office, and Yanin followed, knowing the invitation had been offered. The interior of the side-office was crammed with papers, photographs, models of planes. "That plane out there has the range to make it Hong Kong, refuel, and come back. Do you know how far away Manchuria is?"

"The northern part of China," Yanin said.

"Yeah, and right now, China's not a hot place to be. The Three Generals are feuding."

"Feuding? I haven't heard of that," Yanin said, crossing her arms. Neighboring China was under the control of a military committee, last she heard. Limited to the coast and river plains, not as big as it once was, but unified and strong.

"Oh, yeah. There'll be a war, and passage will be tough. It always happens in China, you know. There'll be a strong dynasty, then bam! Warlords take their little pieces, and it all starts over. It's good for China in the long run, but crap in the short run."

"You're a student of history, Phiyada," Yanin teased.

"Yeah, and a keen observer of economics. I might have been able to make a trip to Manchuria once, leapfrog along the coast, but now? Might be difficult." She was pouring two glasses of mango juice, and handed one to Yanin.

"Thank you," Yanin said, accepting the glass.

"Now, while we're on it, how do you intend to pay?" Phiyada asked.

"I'm not sure," Yanin admitted, sipping the juice. "I was simply told I needed to come here."

"Told? By whom?"

"I don't think you'd understand if I tried to explain it," Yanin replied. "The best I can say is that I live my life as if pulled by a line, and follow it to where it leads me."

"Sounds kind of aimless," Phiyada said with a smirk.

"No, it's not," Yanin said. "I'm aimed by someone, and I'm aimed at Manchuria right now. I have to meet someone there. And you and you're plane will take me there. I'm just not sure how, when, or why."

"A mystic, are you? You should become a nun," Phiyada mused. "Mysticism doesn't pay bills."

"I'm not a mystic. I just know things," Yanin said. "I know you were a man once, for instance."

She studied Phiyada's face as that was said. The fine features had frozen in a look of barely contained hurt, shock, and fear. Yanin did not feel guilt for evoking it, or fear of being turned away. It was enlightening, instead, to see what Phiyada had suffered through for her decision. Something about it endeared her to Yanin in that moment, something honest and unseen. Yanin began to understand a bit more about why that particular bit of information had glowed into her vision.

"Understand it means nothing to me," Yanin continued. "You are what you are, and as a woman, I think you fit together a lot better than I do. I just wanted to demonstrate that I know things."

"Who…told you?" Phiyada asked quietly, her earlier confidence gone. Yanin shook her head.

"No one," she said. "You are what you are. I can see people for that." Phiyada searched Yanin's face for some clue as to what she meant by that, and found no vehemence or cruelty. Yanin had made an honest observation honestly. It was difficult to fake that sort of thing to someone used to dishonesty from close quarters.

"Well…" Phiyada sighed, putting down her glass and laying her hands on her lap. "I assume something was off in my…appearance or presentation?" The question was odd, but it was also pleading. It took Yanin a moment to understand it, and it occurred to her that Phiyada must have worked hard to become who she was now. Any slips in the life she constructed would show she had failed somewhere. Yanin shook her head.

"I already said, you're more of a woman than me," Yanin pointed out. "I'm envious, frankly."

"That's kind. I'm not all the way there…yet," Phiyada said, folding her hands in her lap in a way both protective and ashamed. It drew Yanin's eyes to that area, but they didn't stay there, returning to hold Phiyada's gaze. She shrugged, indifferent. Kathoeys occupied a strange place in Thai society, not vilified but not exactly accepted, either. Once, they could live fairly well for themselves, if limited in where and how they could move. In the current climate, were seen in less than sympathetic eyes due to the lower population following Third Impact. Royal edict had decreed the need for a boosted population. Kathoeys were one line away from treason if they completed their transition. Things had changed in the world, and changes were rarely kind.

Yanin didn't care, very much. Humans were humans. They had blood, organs, flesh to hold these things and bones to support the flesh. They ate food, passed the corruption, lived their lives, and died in the end. They were all shapes, all sizes, and all hues. What was that to Yanin except variety?

"What can I do to book passage to Manchuria?" Yanin asked, tired of the conversation and wanting to return to business.

Phiyada smiled ruefully, and she returned to herself again. "Pay, for one," she said, "And calm the Generals down, for another." Yanin smirked, and finished her juice.

"Perhaps I should just stay around here until a solution presents itself," Yanin suggested. "I've already left my gym with such grand finality. It would be a shame to back."

"Feel free, hon," Phiyada said. "Just don't think you can bat your puppy-dog eyes at me and that'll solve everything."

"I will if it works," Yanin said. "Would it?"

"On a more generous day, yes. You caught me off guard, so I can't be too nice, can I?" Phiyada said with a devilish grin.

"I suppose not," Yanin admitted.

* * *

As it was, the solution that presented itself was one unique to Yanin's particular skill-set, for a group of soldiers showed up that day to harass Phiyada. Yanin had been dozing in the office when she heard the commotion outside, and walked out to find an officer with a squad of troops confronting Phiyada. The man towered over her, but Phiyada was in his face with a dominance that was hard to match.

"I noticed you aren't harassing the _other_ pilots," Phiyada hissed. "Why me? What's so special about _my_ plane?"

"It's size, for one," the officer snapped, "It's range, for another. The military needs all the cargo craft it can spare. It would be a civic service to hand this plane over-"

"Forgive me for not being patriotic enough!" Phiyada suddenly hollered. "I mean, I just need to eat, right? Pay my taxes and all! Handle my life the way I need to handle it! Explain to me how I'll do that without a plane? I'm a pilot!"

"Then go work for someone else, and fly _their_ plane!" the officer snapped. Yanin had slowly sidled up to the edge of the crowd, and three of the soldiers watched her warily, their rifles panning in her direction. "You can send the bill in cost of the plane to-"

"I don't _want_ to send a bill, because I don't _want_ to sell my plane!" Phiyada raged. "It's my plane, not the King's plane, or the military's, but mine! It's my livelihood, my blood, sweat, money and love!" The officer shook his head, finally lost on patience, and tried to push past her. Phiyada tried to shove him, but he was larger, and two of his soldiers walked up to restrain her.

Yanin moved in that moment, and three men were on their hands and knees, vomiting or spitting blood. Those who had been watching her gaped in open surprise as she was now in the midst of them, trying to understand how she had moved so _fluidly_. In that moment, fingers broke, teeth shattered, and bones split as she moved once more. She surveyed the damage, and turned in place to face the officer and his two soldiers who were standing by Phiyada. All four of them stared in shock and terror at Yanin, and the rifles of the soldiers drifted in her direction.

"You can try to shoot," she said. "It won't work. Pull the triggers and prove me wrong." The two looked at each other, then back at their officer. He glanced at them, and shook his head.

"You're a good leader," she noted. "Some of these men can walk. You should all leave." The officer gestured, and the three of them corralled up their broken squad and the lot of them wandered away.

"What…the…_hell_…was that!?" Phiyada asked in shock. Yanin turned and looked at her.

"I told you I see things," Yanin said.

"That wasn't seeing things, that was being a human bomb," Phiyada asked. "Oh, God, you shouldn't have done that!"

"I didn't _like_ doing it," Yanin said. And truthfully, she didn't. The soldiers were not like the boxers who had invaded her home, or the men who accosted her. They were soldiers, doing their duty to their king and the country of Thailand. Their duty, in this sense, was somewhat odious, but it wasn't that they were evil. Still, she had done what was required of her in _that_ moment, and she knew why. "It seems we need to leave."

"We? No, _you_ need to leave. I wasn't a part of that. I was over here being restrained. I have an _excuse_!"

"You said some rather unpatriotic things," Yanin observed, "And what's to say I'm not being associated with you right now? _We_ need to leave." Phiyada made the connection in her mind, and her face grew ugly.

"You set this up, you sneaky…_little_…"

"I didn't set anything up," Yanin sighed, rolling her eyes. "I simply did what I was supposed to."

"Stop that mumbo-jumbo crap! You've…oh, I could _strangle_ you if I didn't think you'd fold my fingers backwards!" Phiyada screamed.

"I wouldn't dare," Yanin said, offended, "How else would you fly the plane?" Phiyada crossed her arms, glaring in fury at Yanin, but also a little respect and admiration. She was trapped, as far as she knew. Perhaps she could worm her way out of it, but she would still lose her plane, and there was still enough doubt over Yanin's connection to her (in the minds of the soldiers) that it would take some time to convince anyone of it's nonexistence. Easier to cut and run. Easier to up and move. Phiyada shook her head.

"Just…get your stuff. It'll take me some time to warm up the plane, okay?"

"That's fine," Yanin said, walking back to the office to grab her bag. Phiyada glared after her, and marched to the plane.

"I bet I regret this more than Singapore…" she grumped to no one in particular.


	11. Frick and Frack

When first seen by Portuguese ships, it had been dubbed on charts as Ilha Formosa, for it was indeed a beautiful island. It was used by the Spanish and Dutch as a base before both were expelled by Ming loyalists, the last holdouts against the victorious Manchus. Even then, it would not become a part of the Empire of the Qing until the Kangxi Emperor decided to think of it less as a 'ball of mud,' and graciously allow his map makers to include the island as a province. The Han had always been reluctant to include an island in their domains seeing it as something demeaning and uncouth to the idea that was China.

The Japanese were not so picky, and in the land grabs of the industrial age, laid claim to what they had long claimed was the largest in their own Ryukyu Island chain. The Chinese would argue otherwise, but their arguments counted for little at that time. The Qing were feeble, and had been so used to the idea of being the most powerful nation in the world that they had failed to realize that other nations had gotten stronger. It was unfathomable to think that the barbarians of Japan, a nation of pirates, could defeat All Under Heaven. They did, and they lost the island that was called Taiwan.

It would become the last remnant of the short-lived Republic in China that would see the dawn of the twentieth century before being expelled by the Communists, and after the Second Impact, it would be forcibly incorporated back into China. After the Return Day, the Three Generals sent military expeditions to the island already filling with sleepy-eyed, bewildered people. No one fought at that point, because no one cared.

As no one cared now. Taiwan was a sleepy place, these days.

Parts of it had flooded with the rise in sea levels, but not all of it, for it was a mountainous island. At the most, some cities had had to retreat during the Second Impact. Most didn't. A few, like Pae Shin, were simply built on the water, tethered to the land by anchors, lashed to each other, and floating over the red water like a great, open sore. Most of the people who lived there spoke English or some pig-din of English, because most of the inhabitants were not Chinese. They were a smattering of all peoples across the Pacific, wanderers and mariners and pirates and smugglers. Half of them knew Chinese, the other half didn't, but all could curse each other in English.

It was why the city was better known as Pandemonium. The Chinese denounced it, but tolerated it. Money was money.

In a bar at the northern edge of Pandemonium, where the stink of the blood-water was strongest, an American and a Chamorro sat drinking their breakfast. The Chamorro was much larger than the American, with brown skin, dark hair, and slow eyes. Usually, his eyes were closed, giving one the impression he was sleeping or dull witted. He was neither, but found it easier to process things with his eyes closed. The American was shorter, wiry in comparison, and had brown hair but a distinctly golden-red tint to his facial hair. His eyes were muddy brown but seemed black, for there was a manic air to them and the way he spoke. They had occupied the bar for a week now, buying drinks and generally being a nuisance, and today was no different. The American was in the midst of some diatribe while the Chamorro grumbled in reply.

"It was this idea I got from this book. Uh, freaking…Pilgrim's Regress."

"Pilgirm's Progress," the Chamorro replied.

"No, goddamnit, that was Bunyan or something. Regress was C.S. Lewis, completely different book. Anyway the character, he's stuck in this pit, right, and the guard is babbling all of this pseudoscience…"

"I can think of, like, eight other topics that would be better to talk about while drinking in the morning."

"Damn your eyes, they're in the pit, right? And one of things this guard does is compare milk to dung, because both come out of the animal, right?"

"I swear to God, Hoyt, if I start thinking about dung whenever I drink milk-"

"You won't, but listen," Hoyt commented, sliding his beer away. "So, it got me thinking about the things that come out of a living creature, right? Right? Wake up, Chris, you're losing knowledge here."

"Tell me about it."

"I will…_frigging_ stab you. Now, let me explain-"

"I really wish you wouldn't."

"Milk comes out of the cow, right? What else comes out? You got sweat, you got excrement, urine, saliva…"

"Please…please stop." Chris was rubbing his face now, as though if he could rub hard enough, Hoyt would shut up. He wouldn't, of course…Hoyt _never_ shut up.

"The point _is_," Hoyt said, "All this nasty stuff comes out, but _milk_…milk is different. Milk is the source of life…look at me when I'm talking…mother's milk is the source of life for the young. First thing when you come out of the womb, what do you have?"

"Mother's milk," the Chamorro grumbled.

"Mother's _frigging_ milk," Hoyt declared triumphantly. "You want to know what the source of life is? Not water, it's mother's milk, because if we don't have that, in our first few days, we are dead. Dead as Good _frigging_ Friday!"

"I have…absolutely…_no_ goddamn idea what you're talking about," Chris declared, wiping his hands through the air palms out. The wiry American was getting excited now, and didn't notice.

"What I'm talking about is the connection, the _singular_ connection, of life from point to point. The source of life is life itself, we come from the egg, we grow up, and we begin our life taking from our mothers-"

"You are _ruining_ my afternoon."

"-and consuming this, from their flesh-"

"From their flesh."

"-right, we take it from them, bring it into us, process it…process it, right?"

"...Sure."

"And if we trace that back _far_ enough…we are still processing from the original whole. From the source."

"I'm going to stop drinking with you if you carry on like this," Chris said diffidently.

"You are…" Hoyt grated. He turned red from effort and suppressed anger, looked away, and then banged the table. "You are a big, Guamanian wet blanket, that's what you are. I can't have a single intelligent conversation with you before you have to go and ruin it. It's like talking philosophy with a possum."

"A possum would have more intelligent things to say about philosophy than you do," Chris said. "Manchuria."

"Fri…what?"

"So, why Manchuria?" Chris asked, enunciating each word. Hoyt had been making big talk about Manchuria for the past week. The American blinked, uncomprehendingly, while flicking at a gray ring on his left hand.

"Manchuria!" he declared, as though the thought had come of its own. "Right! So, Manchuria…They have these gold mines, there, see?"

"…I don't think they have gold mines in Manchuria…"

"…abandoned after we were all tanged, or whatever…"

"…I think they have _coal_ mines in Manchuria, but not…"

"…_frigging_—" Hoyt pounded the table, "—look, whatever they've got _frigging _mines of some kind in Manchuria, some of those have to have valuable stuff, right? And it's further north, so less people, less _heat_, less…"

"Are you saying raid a bunch of mines in Manchuria? Don't the Three Generals consider all of that sovereign Chinese soil?"

"What are they gonna do about it?" Hoyt asked, and Chris noted that was an astute observation. Hoyt expounded on it. "They have little to no one up there. They've been keeping their population on the coast to try and stabilize it, they're at each others throats. There's gonna be a war, and when that happens, who'll notice Manchuria?"

"They might," Chris observed. "There's hardware up there an enterprising leader could take for his war effort. And all of that stuff might still have Chinese characters saying it was part of some Manchurian mining company or something. That's thievery if we try to sell that, and the Chinese have been getting a little old school in dealing with property crime against the state."

"So we just rub it off. I mean, you know Mandarin, you can point out where the word 'Manchurian' is. Easy enough."

Chris studied Hoyt with almost vacant eyes. He then blurted, "I don't read Chinese, jackass, I just speak it, and badly at that. Do you know how long it takes to learn written Mandarin?"

"Then we erase _all_ the words, holy _Mother_ of God you're being a bitch right now," Hoyt snapped, making a grasping motion towards Chris's throat. The Chamorro did nothing, shaking his head impatiently at Hoyt.

"I'm not saying we _don't_ go, I'm all up for checking it out. We Pacific Islanders have a thing for wanderlust, so I'll go with you. I just don't want to end up in a Beijing prison having pieces of my skin cut off."

"Chamorro consider themselves Pacific Islanders?" Hoyt cocked his head like a dog hearing a whistle.

"Holy…_God_, Hoyt."

"Can I _not _ask a question?" Hoyt snapped. Chris spread his hands in a pleading gesture, and Hoyt shrugged, drinking his beer. Chris knew that Hoyt _knew_ that little tidbit, he just forgot it. Frequently. Like many things. He had been that way since Returning. More manic, more forgetful. More bitter. It seemed to Chris at times that the bitterness in Hoyt drove him further than the ambition in others.

His ears pricked as loud voices jabbering in a bad mixture of Cantonese and Mandarin burst into the bar, and a group of filthy Chinese mariners pushed in. They looked to be right off the ship, and loaded with their pay. Rather than go for a nice shower or shave as they would in a more civilized port, they had headed straight for the bars. And now they were here, and they looked to be wanting a fight. They spotted Chris, and Hoyt, who were truly the only folks in the bar at the moment, and beelined for the table.

"Hey, _gweilo_," one of them said, "This you?" He pointed at Chris. Hoyt stared at the man vacantly, ignoring the slur.

"No, he is not me. _I_ am me," he declared, patting his chest with both hands.

"Is that _yours_?" another one with better English asked. Hoyt stared at him like he was an idiot.

"_That_ is Chris. Chris is a man. Chris talk. Talk to Chris. You. Piss off, let me drink watered-down beer. Thank you much, bye-bye now." He had no clue how much English the guy could speak, and his presence was driving him into a slow, burning rage flavored by impatience. Even if the man had displayed phenomenal skills in Hoyt's native language, Hoyt would probably have still spoken that way. He was in that kind of a mood, now.

"We want you to take your pet _lao mo_ out of this bar and quit stinking up the place," a third said in Mandarin.

"He can't understand Mandarin, and I'm not a Mexican," Chris said patiently, but with enough of an edge to put some bite into his words.

"I don't care what you are, you're in our bar, so piss off."

"We've been here a week. You got here today," Chris noted, crossing his massive arms.

"You go, now!" one standing next to Hoyt said in English. "You! White boy! Take talking dog and-" Something about that phrase made Hoyt snap, and he stood and broke a bottle over the man's face. The sailor fell, and stopped moving. Hoyt pulled a knife and pointed it at the sailors.

"I will _cut _the _faces _off of every one of you piss-smelling water rats! Come on!" he shrieked, his face contorted with murderous rage. The change it brought to his appearance and voice was so jarring that the men retreated a step. The sailors had numbers, but they weren't drunk yet, and they realized then how _big_ Hoyt was. They themselves were not short, but Hoyt was at least six feet tall, if not taller, and he had mass to carry it despite his skinny appearance. Sitting next to Chris, they assumed he was a small guy.

Then _Chris_ stood up…

He didn't have to duck his head in the bar, but it was a close call. He was a head taller than Hoyt, and he _towered_ over the sailors. They backed up, deciding the fight wasn't worth it. Hoyt didn't put his knife away, though.

"They ain't worth it, partner," Chris said, patting his friend on the back.

"No one talks to you that way, only _I _frigging…" Hoyt grated. Chris chuckled, walking over to the old Han bartender.

"Is that guy dead?" he asked, pointing at the sailor next to Hoyt's feet.

"Probably," Chris conceded. "Extra charge?"

"Hell yeah," the man said. "He could have been a paying customer. No offense, Chris, but you guys can't kill people who walk in cause they call you names."

"Did you see me do anything?" Chris demanded. "Come on, Long."

"Closing the tab? Finally?"

"Yeah. Let these other boys waste their money on your crappy beer."

"You want nice beer, go to Hong Kong, otherwise, don't complain," Long said. He accepted Chris's payment, and said, "Next time you guys come back, I'll have something nice. Share a drink with old Long Kuo, hey?" Chris nodded, and turned to Hoyt.

"Hoyt, put your knife away and let's go!" Chris snapped, exasperated. Hoyt made a face, sheathed the long blade, and ambled after Chris. They pushed past the sailors, and out onto the too-bright streets of Pandemonium.

"So…Manchuria?" Chris asked.

"Frigging _a_, Manchuria," Hoyt declared, his mood brightened again.

* * *

**Notes from GobHobblin: **If I was to write Hoyt's dialogue the way he actually spoke, I would have to change this story's rating to M.


	12. The Sleeper Awakens

Rei was sleeping when Asuka left the infirmary. Her hand looked awful, but the swelling had receded, somewhat. She still couldn't close her fingers. Asuka was terrified of the prospect of blood poisoning, but the brother in charge of the clinic assured her that there would be none of that.

"We don't have many antibiotics, and they aren't what we _used_ to have, for that matter," he had said in English. "But they are reliable. The little girl will be fine." Asuka was still skeptical, but she wasn't going to dwell on it. Not now. She wanted to find Shinji, have him…explain this to her.

Adam.

She found him in a courtyard with Semyan. The big man had removed his shirt, revealing a resume of tattoos and scars over his barrel-shaped torso. His shoulders were rolling easily, and his hands were up in guard. Shinji was swaying slowly in front of him.

"Ready?" Semyan asked.

"Are you?" Shinji replied. Asuka leaned against a door-frame, and watched. Semyan threw a few jabs to close the distance, but Shinji seemed just out of reach of them without…really moving. Asuka squinted as Semyan followed Shinji, throwing more punches and an occasional kick to the shin, but no blow connected. Shinji always seemed just out of reach, or the punches seemed to miss. She found herself entranced by it, the strange and absurd lightness of the dance. After a few minutes, Semyan was sweating, but Shinji was still relaxed and easy.

"He's cheating, you know," Asuka called. Shinji turned to her as Semyan swung a hook. A casually as standing up, Shinji lowered himself and the hook swung over. Semyan grunted.

"I know that," he replied. "He always sees what I'll do. It's good calisthenics, though."

"Maybe I should try," Asuka suggested, popping her shoulders.

"Intruiging proposition," Shinji noted, rotating his own shoulders, and loosening his muscles. Asuka advanced across the courtyard, relaxed and easy, closing the distance carefully before flicking a hand up and following with a snap kick. Shinji flinched from the first and took the second in the knee. He remained stolid, however, and Asuka closed with a flurry of open-palmed strikes and punches.

Shinji blocked some, avoided others, but took quite a few to the head and ribs before planting his hands on Asuka's hips and pushing her out and away. She she drifted back, and he followed her with a hard, low kick. He didn't for it to be so hard, but it was the first thing like a real fight he had been in for ages. The exhileration of fighting an opponent he could not See got the best of him, and he threw that kick hard. It connected with the back of her leg, and Asuka rode the momentum, somersaulting backwards, planting her hands on the ground, and twisting over to regain her balance. She grinned like a maniac at Shinji, and he laughed.

"Where on Earth did you learn how to do that?" he gawped.

"I have _no_ idea," Asuka admitted. It was then she let her Arm speak. Whipping up, Shinji found himself simply trying to scurry and duck it, amazed at how _fast_ her arm was, before he realized he no longer had his footing and he landed on his back. His left ankle was snugly in Asuka's right hand, and he was unsure of how it ended up there.

"That's impressive," he admitted.

"Yield?" Asuka asked.

"I'm just getting-" Shinji grunted as a foot was placed on his groin.

"Think very carefully, little boy."

"I give up, easy there!" he mock-pleaded, and she dropped his leg.

"Very smart," she concurred, stepping back. Shinji rolled to a sitting position, hunkering over protectively.

"You have a bit of a mean streak, Asuka," Shinji teased. In response, Asuka strutted off the courtyard, simply waving in a dismissive manner as she did. Shinji watched with a smile, but felt his good mood dissipate. "How's Rei?" Asuka said nothing for a moment.

"Sleeping, finally. I'm worried about her hand…it's getting swollen."

"Perhaps maggots," Semyan suggested.

"Maybe not. I think Rei's already had enough stress without that," Shinji advised. "But we'll consider it."

"We need to talk," Asuka said quietly. Shinji looked from her to Semyan. The older man gathered his shirt and left without a word, knowing when others needed privacy.

"What are we talking about?" Shinji asked, pulling his knees in.

"What was all that about? About Adam, about…" Asuka began pacing the outer edge of the courtyard. "Seeing Lilith rattled like that was…unsettling."

"For some," Shinji mused. Asuka glanced up to see if he was teasing her, but his face was relaxed and blank. She crossed her arms, studying him.

"You were awfully relaxed when speaking to Lilith," Asuka noted.

"The day the flesh shapes, and the flesh the day shapes."

"What's that?"

"A quote. From an author. Pre-Impact stuff. I tend to think about it a lot more than I mean to."

Asuka leaned against a wall. "What's it mean?"

"I couldn't tell you," Shinji admitted. "I heard it in English, so the context is probably lost on me. I interpret it in the sense that we can shape our lives, though our lives can also shape us. It just seems to apply, more often than not." He rolled backwards, crossing his legs and staring up into a sky of blue. "We old souls have changed, you and I."

Asuka raised her arm and looked at it, flexing the fingers. Changes came in many patterns, and the thin, white seam that carried a kiss of murder in it was just one of many. She sniffed, and made a fist, watching the muscles under her skin expand and harden. She relaxed, and said, "Adam…"

"I've been thinking about it," came the reply, "and I still don't know what to make of it. Frankly, it disturbs me." In part of the whole jumble, the whole connection of humanity that had ridden in the Black Moon, certain things had been cross shared. Asuka had gained something from Shinji, who in turn had gained something from Lilith/Rei, thus Asuka had taken in a small understanding of the greater implications of that operation. Still, there were others, across time and people, who knew things that had a certain resonance across the whole of humanity, leaving those that returned with a sort of fever dream reality. Some had conversations with people who weren't there, some had memories of events that had happened to others, but there were also certain words, ideas that seemed to have gained a footing in the collective unconscious. Asuka decided Adam had to be one of those words, because it left her feeling cool inside.

Perhaps, though, that was because she knew exactly what Adam was.

"Could it lead to another Impact?" she asked.

"I don't know," Shinji admitted. "Assuming something of Adam managed to actually survive Instrumentality…well, I don't like thinking about it. What if it means a return of the Angels? We have no Evas, no infrastructure to support them. Or what if a piece of Adam comes into contact with _just_ the right piece of Lilim, like Rei? Could that trigger an Impact event? What does it mean when it happens?"

"I understood Third Impact to be a bit more…technical than that. Specific, at least."

"Well, _Third_ Impact was, but Second Impact was an accident," Shinji pointed out. "The fact of the matter is, there were things about our own biology that we realized defied explanation upon discovering Adam, and his biology was so…what's the word?"

"Eldritch?"

"Fancy word. You are truly a font of surprise."

"I aim to please," Asuka purred.

"_Eldritch_," Shinji intoned, "That I think the particular Impact event _we_ endured was…one of many."

"So…there could be a whole slew of potential Impacts out there waiting for us," Asuka said with a shudder. "Joy."

"Joy," Shinji agreed. "And while we're on _that_ topic," he rolled to his feet. "What happens to us if it _does_ happen? The Third Impact we experienced was tailor-designed to have the outcome it had, and even then, _that_ outcome was in doubt due to many factors pulling in many directions."

"Such as God having a teensy little crush on you."

"A-ha…yes." Shinji mused. "That was a card in my stack."

"In all seriousness," Asuka admitted, "That card was the only thing that ensured…_this_…was able to stick around." Shinji turned to her, a sudden and serious look on his face. "What?" she asked, concerned.

"Do you think I made a mistake? Choosing ego over the collective?" Asuka sighed, considering it. She considered that day on the beach that Shinji had strangled her in his hysteria, his mania. From that point on, it seemed to forewarn her that violence was her constant calling in the brave new world she had found. Whether it was skinning a rabbit for supper to shattering a man's arm to…blood and more blood and _more_ blood…there was a slew of awful skeletons in her closets, and the image of black, spindly things wandering through the flames came to her.

She walked across the courtyard to Shinji and slapped him. He took the blow, and studied her quietly, his expression curious. "It hurts, yes?" she asked.

"Yes," he agreed.

"But you kind of liked it," she pointed out.

"Strangely…yes," he admitted.

"It reminds you that you're alive. As much as breathing does."

"Yes."

"As much as this." She bobbed up on her toes and gently kissed the same cheek she slapped. She felt him shiver delightfully at the contact. "Life is pain and pleasure. A collective couldn't know that, and an ego couldn't either. You take both things to know that you existed, and that's important enough, sometimes. In the end," she said, holding her hand up indifferently, "Your choice wasn't right _or_ wrong. It was just a choice, and just the flip of the coin that projected humanity along a path again. As random as a microbe splitting into two or a fish being able to breathe. It's not _wrong_, but it's one I much prefer."

"I can live with that," Shinji said with a smile. He scratched his neck. "I should go see Rei."

"She's asleep," Asuka said seriously. "Don't wake her."

"I won't," he said. "I'll just be there when she wakes." He pecked Asuka on the forehead, and headed to the clinic.

* * *

Rei dreamed of skinned rabbits running over broken asphalt, chased by skinned dogs. She crouched, her bare feet torn by the same asphalt, as the gory hunt sped by her. She was bleeding LCL from beneath her nails, from the corners of her eyes. She felt herself strangling on it, in her nose and mouth. She tried to cough it out, but it lingered.

_I am what I am what I am what I am what are you you you you what are you you you_ someone with her voice chanted in the air. One of the dogs fell, and the others pounced on it, tearing it to pieces and swallowing sloppy wet chunks. She looked down at her feet, and one of the skinned rabbits stared at her with milky eyes.

"Dolls don't have souls," it said, "Even rabbits know that." Rei whimpered, trying to step away from the rabbit and feeling her feet burn from the jagged pavement. "All good girls go to Heaven," it continued, "Except when they go to Hell. Where do dolls go? Even rabbits don't know."

"Shut up!" she shrieked. "I'm not a doll!"

"You said it," the rabbit pointed out. "Not me. Who will cut your strings?" Rei glanced at her arms, to see that wires were indeed rising from her arms, rising to the sky. Blubbering, she tried to pull them loose. Pull them out. She wasn't a doll, she wasn't a puppet, she was Rei, she was her, she was somebody, she _had_ a soul.

"That's a thought," the rabbit said. "Kill yourself, and see if the strings hold up."

"Stop it!" she begged, feeling warmth on her hand. It was a gentle, pleasing warmth, at odds with the cold of the dreamworld. She looked at the hand in wonder, feeling the warmth, feeling…familiarity…feeling _home_.

"That's an illusion," the rabbit said calmly. "You have no home. We'll give you one." Rei was no longer listening, feeling the warmth spread from her hand to her elbow, and she felt the awful world around her fade into gray, then white. She gasped, and came to wakefulness. She felt moisture in her throat, realized she had been drooling down her throat and sinuses while sleeping. That explained the strangling sensation. She sat up, and looked at her hand. It was propped on someone else's, the fingers gently gripped by the larger hand.

She squirmed, focusing, and saw that it was Shinji. She was suddenly very awake, and feeling very bashful.

"You're hair is all scruffy on one side," he said. "You must have slept hard."

"Um…hi, Shinji," she said, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. She had a sudden flash memory of the _last_ time Shinji had been here, and all she remembered was fuzziness, terror, hysterics…she trembled, and tried to look away. The grip on her hand tightened, not painful, but firm, and grounding.

"You had a bad dream," he said.

"…Yes."

"I could tell. You were talking in your sleep."

"What was I saying?"

"Nothing of note. I could tell from the tone," he observed. "Does your hand hurt?"

"Kind of. Mostly it itches," she said, looking at it. "I have trouble moving my fingers."

"Because it's swollen?"

"Yeah." She looked up at him. "I missed you."

"Missed me?" he asked. He seemed surprised. "Why would you do that?"

"I…dunno." She admitted. She looked up with wide eyes. "I just did. I'm…sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I…" She swallowed, looking down. "I wasn't…normal…when you saw me."

"Hardly your fault," he said. She scrunched up, like a turtle retreating into it's shell, and in that moment Shinji felt truly bad for her. He was still trying to suss out _what_ she was, as well as _why_, but that didn't mean she _wasn't_ a child. So odd, to think of her like that. So odd, for so many reasons…

"Rei," he said, "I'm very happy to see you again." She glanced over at him, feeling meek at the words. He smiled, and released her hand to lean over and brush her hair from her face. "You're kind of a mess, right now, though. Hair everywhere." She turned a bright shade of pink as he did it, sitting very still. He leaned back. "Want to talk about the dream?"

"I want to forget it," she said, quietly.

"That's fine. Do you…remember anything? From before? When you…weren't normal?" She shook her head. Shinji nodded. "Rei, it's important that, when you do, you tell me or Asuka. Don't be embarrassed, or ashamed, or afraid, okay? Can you do that?" She nodded. "Good. Now, we haven't seen each other in…well, awhile," Shinji said, which he knew wasn't true. He had never seen this girl before at _all_. That didn't change the fact that _she_ had seen _him_, and she remembered it clearly. That was important, to her and to Asuka. "Why don't you tell me about how you and Asuka came to find me?"

"Asuka told you already, though," Rei said, feeling bashful.

"Haven't heard your side. I imagine you have something to say about it," he said.

"Well…maybe a thing or two," she said, with a slight grin. She began to talk, slowly but surely opening up and becoming more enthusiastic and more eager as she told the story, and Shinji found himself enraptured. This was not Rei, but it was a girl who was engaging, intelligent, sweet, and as innocent as could be under the circumstances. It was Rei the way she had deserved to be, freed from the constraints and pain placed on her by Nerv, by the chains of godhood.

By his father.

No, this wasn't Rei…but it was something just as good. It was a fresh start. He nodded, and smiled, and spoke when necessary, and drifted into the girl's tale of the track to the north, the people he had met, the things she had learned from Asuka. It was a grand afternoon as any he had had in a long time.

Standing in the doorway, he never noticed Asuka watching with crossed arms and a secret smile all her own.

* * *

**Notes from GobHobblin:** The quote 'the day the flesh shapes and the flesh the day shapes,' as well as the chapter title, come from Frank Herbert's _Dune_, which remains, to this day, my favorite book of any genre.


End file.
